The Power of Three
by NURSE J0Y
Summary: Sequel to Black Cats and Witchcraft. It's been nearly 6 years since our wayward witch was forced to bury the past along with the woman he loved. But is he ready to bury the hatchet? What happens when old ghosts come back to haunt him? When the hunted becomes the huntress. Best read and review to find out! The future is what we create. It's the power of three. So mote it be.
1. Parallel Lives

**PARALLEL LIVES**

A lone crossbow bolt soars across the Gotham skyline. Aim steady and true. Attached zip-line whirs through the air, followed by the subtle hum of metal slicing through the night. All else is silent, canceled out by the cacophony of city noise as the pointed end of said arrow finds its mark. Right on target, it connects with the side of a building a couple hundred feet away, embedding itself into the wall.

A shadow emerges from out of the darkness. Dressed in purple and black, the masked woman readies her stance on the edge of the rooftop. Eyes narrowed. Lips set in a scowl. Crossbow steady.

There's a lot that goes into grappling building to building. The Batman makes it look so easy, most would never stop to think. How many pounds per inch your cable can safely hold without snapping. Wind velocity. Speed of decent. Proper maintenance and lubrication. Timing. It's all about timing... You see, you're only as good as your gadgets and wits. And that's on a good day if you're lucky. Usually it's one or the other... Like she said, Batman makes it look easy. Hell... She makes it look good.

The slightest hint of a smirk crosses her scarlet lips. Press play and begin.

_You won't get much closer until you sacrifice it all... ALL..._

Bat out of Hell, the girl leaps from the rooftop and swings clear across the night sky.

_You won't get to taste it with your face against the wall... WALL... WALL..._

Rush of adrenaline. The wind in her hair. Skin-tight leather and the sting of the brisk breeze whipping at her face. God, she lives for nights like these.

"_Zzzt... Did you really have to rewire the links to the comms JUST so you could play your iPod through the speakers in your cowl?" _A stern yet feminine voice cuts in to her headset._  
_

"What? You don't like Muse?"

The voice on the other end of the relay audibly sighs at the Huntress' unwelcomed wit.

"_Zzz... Do you have to play it so loud?_"

"You're no fun, O." The Huntress teases. "Come on. Let loose. Have a little fun! OH! The chorus is coming up. Sing it with me, girl!" She takes a deep breath. "Ohhhhhhhh... One, two, three, four, FIRES in eyes. And this CHAOS it defies IMAGINATION! Five, six, seven, MINUS nine lives..."

"_You've arrived at your destination._"

"That's not how the song goes."

"_H! You've arrived at... Zzssttttss... zzzttzz..._"

"O? Oracle? You there? Dammit."

An inky shadow against the dark Gotham backdrop, the Huntress flies through the night towards her intended destination. An arms deal at the corner of Lexington and Holt. Rooftop. A couple of minnows in the Gotham underworld, hoping to make it bigtime. Little fish. Hardly sharks. And while they, themselves, aren't too concerning, the merchandise they're packing... Taking these thugs down and their heat off the streets should be enough to get in good with daddy. Not that she gives a rats ass what he thinks of her, of course... A simple seek and destroy. Simple being the key word. Nothing's ever simple. Not in this town.

Something or someone cuts her line and suddenly she's falling. Plummeting towards the rooftop below. It's the one and only time she wishes her uniform came complete with a cape. Then she could just glide her way to safety. Instead, she tucks and rolls, hitting the surface of the gritty roof hard but balanced. She'd trained for things like this. She's a natural. When one's father is the Batman, one trains for anything and everything. You do what you have to do. What you need to survive.

Whatever it takes.

Bringing herself up into a crouching position, she finds herself surrounded. Ten men. Big. Armed. Angry. Heavy crates of stolen goods. Looks to be military grade. At least now she knows where they're getting this stuff. And oh look... an EMP gun. So THAT'S why Oracle cut out so quickly. They fried her comms.

"No one's coming to help you, little girl." The man with the EMP so smugly declares. He steps front and center, perhaps the leader of the group. He's sure as hell sure of himself enough to be, at least.

The Huntress gets to her feet. Without her ever-present watchdog keeping tabs on her, she's free to do what she likes. There's no holding back. She cracks her knuckles and grins.

"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing to you."

Fists raises, she pounces. Ready to strike.

* * *

_SLAM!_

Hand meets alarm. Hard. Resulting in a fizzling mess of wires and broken, melted plastic. The third one he's destroyed this week.

Klarion the Warlock tosses in bed, groaning as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. The battered alarm clock sizzles beside him and to its right on the nightstand sits a plump little tabby, unamused but prepared for the strike. He tells his master it's time to wake. Klarion responds by yanking the covers up and over his head.

"Dumb cat! It's still dark!" The overgrown child whines.

Teekl sighs and rolls his brilliant green eyes.

"_Dark or not, it is time to wake and ready yourself for your big meeting today._"

The warlock stirs, obviously intrigued by his familiars curious musings. He arches a thin, pointed brow.

"Meeting?"

"_Yes. The one you made me promise not to let you forget..."_

"With whom?"

_"The Wayne Foundation."_

"About?"

Teekl breathes a heavy sigh and hops down off the nightstand and onto the floor. Tail swishing haughtily to and fro as he exits the bedroom.

"Kidding! Just kidding..." A muffled laugh escapes from under the covers. "Sheesh... So serious."

Klarion draws back the covers and sits himself upright, although lazily. He runs his fingers through his hair and casts the framed photo at his bedside a groggy grin.

"Good morning, Kitty."

After Kitrina's death, most of her worldly possessions were donated off. A few key pieces such as her catsuits and the like were divvied between Selina and Bruce. Klarion's nomadic lifestyle didn't allow him to keep much, but then again, Kitrina never was much for personal effects. An outcast herself, most of what she'd owned at one time or another belonged to someone else. She'd stolen most her life. Strip away the diamond necklaces and pearls and you don't have much more than a couple photographs and a rather large pile of clothing. So he kept what he could. A couple blouses that still held her scent. That is until he inhaled it all away... That red frilly pair of panties he'd stolen from her so very long ago. And the few photographs she'd kept on her nightstand. The ones of her and her friends at that boarding school upstate. A happier moment in her brief but meaningful life. Captured in time. Looking at the pictures now, his one regret is that they'd never had their picture taken. Even in all the time they'd spent together. Not a single one.

He gets to his feet, placing a hand atop his favorite photo of her smiling face.

"Today's the day." He says warmly down to her, as if she were actually there. "I can feel it."

It's been close to a year now since he'd hit rock bottom, since he had that little chat with Bruce Wayne. Ever since then, he's been working towards his goal, his plan to help his people ascend to the surface. An idea that has faced many adversities along the way. Road block after road block. Red tape after red tape. Then out of the blue, he'd received word that the Wayne Foundation had taken interest in his cause. Hopefully his meeting today will help turn things around.

Hand dipping into the waistband of his black boxer briefs, Klarion scratches at his belly. Head back, he lets loose an exaggerated yawn as he makes his way out into the living room portion of his studio apartment. It's a quaint little living space in the lower east side of Manhattan. Not much to look at, but it's home. At least for now. Besides, he's squatted in worse. Sure beats the sewers, anyway.

Walking past the television, it turns on as if the device has a mind of its own. Channels flip erratically. The game station hums to life. Governed by red magic, a controller hovers midair. Teekl hops up onto the well-worn couch, watching the spectacle before him as his master steps into the bathroom, not bothering with the door behind him as he begins his morning ritual.

As if possessed, a coffee pot begins brewing on its own accord. A frying pan sets to work on breakfast, a slave to its invisible master opening the fridge and cracking eggs into its sizzling surface. All while the witch hovers over the bathroom sink, toothbrush in hand. He controls all there is around him with the greatest of ease. Going about several different tasks all at once as if it were mere childs play.

Water rains down on him from inside the shower as he monitors the TV through his familiar's eyes. Klarion presses all the right buttons from a room away, battling an opponent online for the glory of the win. An explosion onscreen makes Teekl's whiskers twitch upward into what can be perceived as a smile on his furry little face.

"Bum bum buuummmm..." Klarion bellows, arms raised victoriously in the air as he steps out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor. "Another win for the Warlock!"

A towel flies across the bathroom, lifting from its spot hung on the wall to wrap around the witch. Once dry, clothes from every which way, scattered throughout the apartment, come to greet him as well. The young man needn't lift a finger, he holds out his arms and his magic does the rest. Starched white dress shirt envelopes him, buttoning on its own. Next comes the skinny black tie. Then that form fitted suit jacket with the crimson red lining. A classic combination. Much like the very first suit she'd picked out for him.

A comb runs itself through his wet hair in an attempt to tame its unruliness. He slicks it back. Suave and sleek. It lasts for but a moment. Long enough to get a sly grin in before the raven locks spring out of place. Those two trademark devilish curls unfurl from the rest of his coiffure. No matter what he does, he'll never be able to tame such chaos.

Pants in hand, he steps into them one leg at a time. Magic does the rest. A zip and a button as he makes his way out of the bathroom and into the living room to take a seat on the couch beside his bestest little buddy in the whole wide world.

Two plates of sausages and eggs hurtle through the air, coming to a rest in the duo's laps. Klarion picks up his fork and shovels a heaping mound of food into his mouth as the game controller continues hovering and playing its ghostly game to the pairs amusement.

It's a bachelors life. Simple. One day at a time. There's dishes in the sink and dirty clothes on the floor. Sure it could use a woman's touch. As can he... But it's good and honest. A work in progress towards something better. Maybe one day he'll open himself up again to someone who can love him, but for now he's as close to happy as he's been in a long time. For now, his heart still belongs to her... And for her he will do anything to make her proud.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

"I hope you're proud of yourself." A deep baritone booms from somewhere within the cave.

The Huntress hops off the back of her motorcycle. Removing her helmet, she shakes out her long, raven locks.

"If this is about me messing with Oracle's gear so that I can listen to my music, look I'm-"

"You broke protocol, Helena." The Batman interrupts in that uncanny no-nonsense tone if his. He steps out of the shadows, revealing himself to the light. To anyone else, he'd appear almost menacing as he makes his way towards her in grand flare.

Helena stares at him dumbstruck, her mind trying its best to fill in the gaps.

"Sooo... I take it this isn't about the iPod."

"This is serious, Helena."

"I'm BEING serious!" She defends against her father. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

The Dark Knight glares down at her, those cold steel eyes cutting through the darkness of the cave.

How can he possibly put into words his worry and concern for her. His fear and his love. He'd just gotten her back and dares not lose her again. It would absolutely ruin him. He'd be devastated should anything happen to her. Sure, he could tell her that. Make her understand where it is he's coming from. But talking about his feelings isn't exactly one of his strong suits. Nor is it hers. Instead, they square off. As they've done so many times before.

"You're to maintain an open line of communication at all times." He growls.

"And I did! It's not MY fault that guy had an EMP disruptor."

"Then you leave until you can get your comms back online and working."

"Leave?!" She cries. "Months of planning and you'd want me to retreat? And why? Because I don't have O breathing down my neck?"

"What if you required backup?"

"I don't NEED backup! I didn't need any help. I did just FINE tonight on my own!"

"FINE?! You call sending ten men to the hospital tonight FINE?" Batman shouts in return. "One of which is in critical. So congratulations, he'll be eating through a tube for he rest of his life. That is if he even wakes up."

Helena folds her arms across her chest and juts out her hip. Eyes narrowed, she pouts.

"The hospital is better than the morgue, right?" She huffs. "It's not like I KILLED anyone tonight."

Her tone is sarcastic and drips with spite.

"And that makes it ok?"

Through slitted eyes, Bruce stares her down. Defiant, unwavering, she glares up at him in return.

It doesn't take the world's greatest detective to sense the change in her since her return. It's as if she's a different person. Someone else entirely from the young, free-spirited young girl he once knew. It's as if all the light has drained from her eyes. All the joy and the life. As if all that was good in her had died. In its stead, such a bitter creature of darkness and night. So much violence. So much anger. So much like him. Cold. Calculating. Short fused. Hot tempered. Bull-headed. Stubborn...

Bruce sighs. These yelling matches are becoming old and tiresome. He'd do anything to get his little girl back. Anything.

Whatever it takes.

The hooded figure turns abruptly, cape billowing behind him as he leaves.

"Get dressed." He calls from over his shoulder. "You have a busy day ahead of you at the office."

Today's the day.


	2. An Appointment With Destiny

**AN APPOINTMENT WITH DESTINY**

Gotham City. It's been too long.

Stepping out from the red glowing portal of light, Klarion breathes in that thick city air he knows so well. It's something that can't quite be explained, but there's a distinct difference to the air here unlike anywhere else. Even his home in New York can't compare. Perhaps it's from all the years of Joker venom, fear toxin, Ivy spores and the like having been introduced to the atmosphere, mixed with the car fumes and grime, it's left the city with a certain scent like no other. An aroma that can't be put into words, leaving him with such a nostalgic feeling of home.

It's a bittersweet feeling, though. Gotham reminds him of all that he'd gained as well as all that he'd lost. Whether good or bad, everything reminds him of HER. Both the happiest and saddest moments in his life. His highest point as well as his lowest. His triumph. His defeat.

They say that time heals all wounds. Whoever said that should have their pockets filled with rocks and tossed in the bay. No amount of time could ever possibly make today any easier. If anything, coming back to Gotham has _opened_ old wounds. Wounds that hadn't had the time to ever fully heal because no amount of time ever truly could.

There's a pit in his stomach just churning with nerves. Such hope and worry and dread. Eager anticipation. And sadness. Such a deep sea of melancholy washes over him. He just wishes she were with him here today. But in his heart he knows in a way she is. As she'll always be. Looking out for him and watching over. To give him strength and to guide him through to his goal. It's because of her he's here today. In her name, he WILL reclaim his homeland. No matter what.

Klarion takes a deep breath and steps through the massive doorway of metal and glass. Whatever news may come, it's time to face it head on. There's no going back.

He's spent the last year bettering himself, reacquainting himself with his people and meeting their wants and needs. Learning to be their leader, their voice. Acting as liason between the two worlds of above and below. Trying to amend for his past indiscretions. His sins. And his failures. Something that likes to pop up again and again in meetings such as these. No one wants to give him a chance all because of his past mistakes. He's a liability. Plain and simple. No matter how much good he's done for the world, he's still got plenty of red in his ledger. Act a villain once in your lifetime and they'll never let you forget it. And perhaps they're right to.

"Good morning, Mr. Bleak! We've been awaiting your arrival." A friendly voice chirps from behind a desk.

Lost inside his own head, the Warlock hadn't even realized he'd made his way through security and up to his intended floor.

The young woman, a secretary, rises from her seat to come around the desk. Klarion offers a friendly smile and she escorts him to the rather impressive looking office immediately to their right. Together they step inside the room with a view. A highrise, corner office. Glass walls nearly encompass the entirety of the massive suite. Three out of four walls to be exact. The two overlooking the city as well as the one leading out into the hall with the secretary. Such grandeur, Klarion is inclined to think he's meeting with the big man Bruce Wayne, himself. Which brings him back to the state of the room. So many windows. So clear and transparent. It gives one the impression that the man has nothing to hide. But the former Witch Boy knows better. The man has plenty to hide. He just keeps it in plain sight.

She motions for him to take a seat at one of the plush leather chairs in front of the oversized desk. He obliges and she offers him something to drink, to which he declines. The girl nods and smiles warmly.

"She'll be right with you in a moment."

Klarion's a bit taken aback. He hadn't expected to be meeting with a woman. He was absolutely positive he was here to see Bruce Wayne. Who else would have invited him? Perhaps a lawyer acting on behalf. Power of attorney? Someone else put in charge? Then why the swanky office? Before he has a chance to inquire, the young secretary has already exited the room. Turning his head, he can see her taking a seat back at her desk on the other side of the glass. He turns to the feline familiar perched upon his shoulders and shrugs. Surely he's just as confused as his master.

The witch eases back into his chair. No matter. There's no use fretting about such issues.

Mere seconds pass, but it doesn't take long for the Warlock to grow bored. Or perhaps it's just a need to aid his fleeting nerves. He bides his time tapping his hands against the leather armrest to the beat inside his head, all the while looking about the room in childish wonder.

One would think a woman would dress the room up a bit, add a touch of flair. Make the space a tad more warm and cozy and inviting. Not that the room isn't beautiful, it is. It's just so pristine. Minimal. Cold. Not even a photograph on the desk. No husband or children. So very unpersonable. There's no life to the room. It's empty.

All except the hunting trophies. Birds of prey, stuffed and mounted upon the wall furthest from the windows. Beautiful, but ghastly creatures. They remind him of the many "presents" Teekl has caught and left for him over the years, as cats tend to like to do.

Something catches his attention, making him abruptly stop what he's doing. Something... odd. A scent. But what?

Being attached to his familiar, which happens to be a cat, the Warlock's sense of smell, as well as the rest of his other senses tend to be much more in tune to these sort of things. At times, he can sniff out a burger joint from over half a mile away. But this... This is no burger.

Klarion's head spins back to center, square upon his shoulders. Alert.

Smells can trigger certain memories. Little snippets in time. Klarion closes his eyes and lets the scent lead him where it may. Trying his best to piece together the fragments in his mind. It's so familiar, as if it were only yesterday, and yet so very long ago.

Memories of laying in the tall grass beneath a mangrove tree. Or the sun beating down upon his face on an unseasonably warm Autumn day. Like strawberry fields and fresh summer rain... With but a hint of danger hidden just beneath the surface...

Like catnip.

Eyes shoot open. Wide and trembling. His spine straightens. Black nails dig deep into his armrest.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on end and his skin prickles over in goose-flesh. The sort of reaction most would expect upon seeing a ghost. But for a witch who's seen many a ghost in his lifetime, not to mention monsters, the undead, aliens from other worlds, giant were-cats, and perhaps a demon or two... To put it mildly, he's seen a great many things that the normal human couldn't easily explain. But this... This simply cannot be. And yet, he KNOWS that scent.

He spins around in his seat so fast, he nearly knocks the damned thing over. Not a moment too soon for a certain slinky silhouette to come striding oh so very fetchingly back into his life.

The moment comes to him in the form of shock. Nearly having a heart attack at the sight of the women in the doorway, he needs to hold onto the back of his chair for support. It's not every day the past comes back to haunt you. When old ghosts come a knocking, nothing can ever prepare.

A well-stacked folder in her hands, the business woman looks up from her paperwork to catch eyes with him. Green and glistening and wild.

"Kitty?"

* * *

_**HA! Couldn't help but make a 'birds of prey' reference in here. Even if they are stuffed and mounted on her wall. **_

_**Welcome back, readers! Are you ready to rock and roll? I was gonna put an authors note at the end of the last chapter but thought it ruined the mood, so here we are! Please review. I'd love your input and ideas! PS. The song lyrics in the last chapter were Muse "Panic Station" A groovy thumpin' tune to get this party started. Ow! (And I'd like to think Babs isn't such a tightwad and was secretly bopping away up in her clocktower! Lol)  
xoxo**_


	3. The Cat Came Back

**THE CAT CAME BACK**

Klarion stands there like deadweight, gripping the back of his chair strongly. He wants to rush over to her. Pick her up. Spin her around. Scream. Shout. Yell. Laugh. Kiss her. Hug her. Hold her tight and never ever EVER let her go EVER EVER _EVER_ again... A million questions. So much going through his head. But his feet stay firmly planted to their spot on the floor. His knees are shaking so much, it's a damned miracle he hasn't collapsed. His heart's beating so fast, it's a wonder he hasn't fainted at all.

He's dreaming. He must be. Or so he tells himself. And it wouldn't be the first time. The girl haunts his every dream. Each and every night since the day she went away. Some happy, but mostly sad.

They usually begin with them lying on the beach together, peaceful and carefree, only for her to ultimately burst into flames. That's usually about the time he wakes up, shaking in cold sweat. Forced to relive that night he'd lost her again and again and again. Though his dreams have never been this lucid. This... wonderful before. To see her alive and well and HERE... And should he still be sleeping, he only prays that fate not be so cruel as to ever let him wake again.

"K-Kitrina?"

It's the wrong name, he knows that, but his brain isn't exactly working at full function and it's the only word he can manage to choke out. It _is_ what he had known her as, after all. Even if the woman belonging to that name should be long past dead.

Eyebrow arched, the woman stares at the Warlock strangely. She stops in front of him, head tilted, looking up into his eyes as if searching for something. She parts those plump scarlet lips of hers to speak. That velvety purr of a drawl that makes his skin warm head to toe.

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else." The object of his fascination replies. Shifting her paperwork, she offers Klarion her hand to shake. "Helena Wayne." She greets. "Now, if you'll please take your seat, Mr. Bleak, then we may begin."

Klarion's taken aback by her coldness. Her professionalism and unfamiliarity with him. He accepts her hand expecting to feel some warmth in her, some little reminder of the girl he once knew, but her firm handshake tells otherwise. There's no connection. Mind, body, or soul. It's as if they're strangers. Nothing more.

His mind reels with questions and possibilities. He tries to fight against the tide of disconcerting thought to stop and think clearly for a moment. This is certainly no dream. For that, now, he's certain. The feel of her skin against his, her voice, her scent... It's all too... REAL. Perhaps his portal had accidentally deposited him upon a parallel world. Like one of the many he'd visited upon her passing. He only wishes he knew the answer because something's obviously very wrong. This isn't right. This CAN'T be his Kitty. His stomach drops. His heart sinks. He feels low. Lower than he's felt in a very long time. As if he'd lost her all over again.

Helena offers a curt nod as she retrieves her hand and makes her way behind her desk. Klarion watches her as she goes. Studying her likeness.

Black patent heels. Those legs that never quit. A slinky black pencil skirt to accentuate her glorious, heart-shaped behind. And a billowy, purple satin blouse, opened just enough to show off a bit of skin. She looks exactly as he remembers her, just a bit older, lusher... If there were ever a way for her to grow more gorgeous and sexier in time, she's succeeded. This HAS to be his Kitty. Just HAS to. Teekl's sure of it too. She's even wearing that same silver cross she wore the day she died, whatever trinket that might be... The only difference is her hair. Raven black. As black as a star-less night. Black as sin itself. Black like his.

"Helena?" He asks softly as she takes her seat. "Don't you know who I am?"

Palms down on the desk, he leans in as if pleading with her to remember. Again, she looks at him strangely.

"Of course, Mr. Bleak." She replies looking down at the folder on her desk. "It says so right here on your paperwork."

Head low, he runs a hand through his hair, obviously at wit's end. Trying his best to keep himself together.

"Somewhere deep inside, I know you know who I am. Please... You HAVE to remember."

She sits demure, hands folded at her desk, watching him beg.

"Are you alright, Mr. Bleak?" She asks unemotionally. "Can I get you a water or-"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

He explodes and she doesn't bat an eye, just sits there unimpressed by his emotional state. Chest heaving, he pants from his outburst. She simply rolls her eyes.

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Klarion. BLUE!" He replies frantically. "Mr. Bleak is-"

"Strictly business?" Helena cuts in, motioning towards the paperwork before her. "As in, what we're supposed to be doing?"

She looks down at her watch.

"I don't have time for this." She huffs. "If I want to make lunch before my one o'clock..."

The Warlock's head spins. How can she act so detached? Why doesn't she remember him? HIM? An idea comes to mind. There's no other explanation. She hit her head from the blast or coming back has caused her to forget or she's repressed the painful trama or...

"You have amnesia!" Klarion declares excitedly, perking up from his lowly state. He becomes animated, eager, nearly climbing atop her desk to be near her. She shrinks back, visibly appalled by the spectacle he's creating. "I can help you! I can restore your memory! I-"

By now he's crawled completely hands and knees onto her desk. He reaches out to touch her face. So close, he can _almost_ grasp it. Teekl leaps from his master's shoulders, sensing the oncoming attack as Helena jumps up from her seat. With one swift motion, she grabs hold of the Warlock's outstretched arm, twists it behind his back, and slams him down, pinning him to the desk. It all happens so fast, his brain doesn't have time yet to register the agonizing pain he's in.

"Don't you DARE touch me!" She growls, lips to his ear as she leans in close. A bit of a feather-weight and not much for physical altercations, her body pressed on top of his is enough to keep him pinned flat beneath her. "I'm not letting you inside my head EVER again, do you hear me?"

Confused, Klarion stirs beneath her.

"Sooo... Does that mean you DO remember?" He croaks. The weight of her atop him plus his own elbow jammed into his spine is making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "Kitty?"

Helena grabs hold of the Warlock's hair and yanks his head in the direction of the hallway to view the terrified secretary huddled at her desk, clutching the phone to her chest.

"NOT. HERE." The Huntress growls between grit teeth. Her face nearly touches his own, speaking so low that only her prey can hear her.

Klarion nods his understanding. He hasn't a clue as to what's going on but it's obvious that his actions are making the locals nervous. This isn't the time nor the place for answers. Lucky for him, time and place are irrelevant when you're magic. He works best outside the laws of reality, anyway.

With the snap of his fingers, about the only thing he _can_ still move, time freezes around them. And not a moment too soon. Through Teekl's heightened senses, Klarion can hear the boots of several guards barreling down the hallway towards them. Helena's secretary must have alerted them the moment he started acting irrationally. Now they, as well as everyone else, is stuck outside the moment. The little bubble of time he'd created just for them.

"What did you do?" Helena growls, twisting Klarion into an all new painful position.

"You said not here." He moans sharply. "Right now, we're not anywhere!"

He'd come here today to make amends for his past, to work towards a better future for him and his kind. He'd never expected for his past to catch up to him, but one never does. And right now his past has got him in a headlock, for all matters of the word, kicking his ass.

With a gravely sigh of disgust, Helena lets go of Klarion's arm. He slowly sits himself upright, rubbing his throbbing shoulder tenderly. His eyes never leave her for a second as she crosses the room slowly, pretending to take interest in her trophies. Back to him, she folds her arms tight across her chest.

"He's punishing me..." Helena mutters quietly to herself.

Not quiet enough.

"Who's punishing you?"

With the tilt of her hip, she rolls her eyes.

"My father."

The taste of the word sticks a bit bitter in her mouth.

"Why?" Klarion asks softly. Nothing makes sense. Like he's been thrown into the middle of something. Where everyone knows the answers but him.

Again, she sighs. Something she seems to be doing a lot of. After a moment of silence, she offers an explanation of sorts. Though it's unlikely the explanation is meant for him. It's more like she's expressing her inner thoughts and he just so happens to be there.

"This was NOT supposed to happen. I wasn't even supposed to be here today!" Helena begins, irritated. Motioning with her hands to emphasize her point. "I'm supposed to be shopping. In Milan. With mom. A whole ocean away. But noooooo... Snap a guys neck and he's gotta go and do THIS." She pouts, repeating herself much more clearly this time. "He's punishing me."

Teekl comes to join his master, sitting atop his lap as the Warlock perches on the edge of her desk, staring at her from across the room. He's trying so hard to make sense of it all. But the more she talks, the worse a feeling he gets. A pit of dread in his gut.

"I... I don't understand." Klarion stammers.

He needs to know. Needs to understand. This is all too much. He has no idea what's going on.

Placing her hands on her hips, Helena turns to face the Warlock.

"Right... I suppose you have questions." She sighs heavily, still so very annoyed. "Five minutes. Then you turn time back on. Deal?"

Five minutes? How is he supposed to collect his thoughts in time? There's too much to ask. Too much to say. Five plus _years_ worth.

"I... I watched you... you..."

"Die?"

He nods his head.

"Who... How were you resurrected? When did you... How long have you been back? Why did no one inform me? Why didn't you-"

"I didn't die, Klarion." She cuts into his tangent with a rather short tone.

"What?"

"I wasn't resurrected because I didn't die." She expands, her tone still as cold. "I faked my death. I've been here this whole time. Well... Not HERE exactly... Around."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Klarion knew this was the most likely scenario. He just didn't want to believe it. How much better this would be having just been a dream. A nightmare in which to wake. The truth is much more depressing. And the truth is...

"You left me."

His voice is so small. No longer able to look her in the eye, he finds his gaze shifted towards the floor. Helena crosses her arms again, staring at him. He looks like he's about to crumble. Little keeping him from falling apart. She stands strong and without interest, like a rock. Immovable. Indifferent. She shakes her head.

"Klarion..."

"But you did. You faked your death so you could leave me. You walked out on me."

"Don't act like I did this TO YOU." She returns defensively. "I did it FOR ME."

"Oh? And you couldn't take me with you? Couldn't, at the very least, afford me the right to let me know you were ok?" His tone raises. His sorrow quickly turning heated. "At least break up with me like a decent human being. Do you know the TORMENT I put myself through thinking you were dead the last six years? The PAIN? I never moved on, Helena. All that wasted time I'll never get back. I gave you my life. I SOLD MY SOUL FOR YOU!"

He shouts. Upset. Emotional. Tears sting at his eyes. Yet still she stands there, perfectly calm and collected. Statuesque. A cold scowl upon her cold lips only to be matched by the cold glare in her steely cold eyes. Like her father.

"Don't act like you're the only victim here." She hisses in return to his outrage. "You LIED to me, Klarion. You betrayed my TRUST. Which is something I don't so easily pass around, ok? I TOLD you things about myself. Things I'd never told anyone else before, but still you... you KEPT things from me. IMPORTANT things I shouldn't have had to find out from your arch-enemy. I SHOULD have heard them from YOU. I DIED, ok? Maybe not in that fire. Maybe just from a gunshot wound to the chest. But I died. You wanna talk about RIGHTS. I think I DAMN WELL had the RIGHT to know about that, don't you? Or maybe the identity of my parents, huh? And EVERYTHING ELSE you kept from me." She points an accusing finger at him. Her tone simmering with spite. "You know it's funny. YOU knew more about me than I EVER did. So EXCUSE me if I don't trust you any more. You've lost the right to sit there and act like I've hurt YOU. Like I betrayed YOU. After all you've put me through, I say I EARNED a little time to MYSELF, don't you?"

Put in his place, Klarion takes a seat back down on the edge of her desk. Quiet. Reflective. She's right. To a point.

"I was only trying to protect you." He says somberly, his voice so tiny. "I wanted you to be happy."

This time she looks away, trying her best to reclaim her steely composure. She looks out across the room to the frozen scene outside the window, staring at a flock of pigeons mid-flight going nowhere.

"Yeah well... Here we are. Smiles all around." Helena replies sarcastically. Glancing down at the stopped watch on her wrist, she breathes a little sigh before returning to her desk. "Your five minutes are up. It's time we get to work."


	4. Cold Hands Warm Heart

**COLD HANDS WARM HEART**

Time is like turning on and off a light switch for the magically inclined. One second it's there and the next it's not. And vice versa. Time's only relevant to the constraints of one's imagination.

Downtrodden, Klarion returns to his seat and with the snap of blue fingers, time returns from which it came. Both he and Helena sitting in their respective chairs, one across from the other, a large oak desk between them.

A set of heavily padded security officers come barging into the room barking orders, tasers trained. Only the best in armed bodyguards for Mr. Wayne's baby girl. Still, it's nothing a bit of hypnotic suggestion can't solve. Mind control is such a dirty word...

Same goes for the timid secretary huddled beneath her desk. In an instant all returns to "normal". Or whatever one can perceive as normal in this city... The guards exit, not even aware they were ever called into action in the first place and the secretary goes back to answering calls and taking messages, never the wiser.

Dirty deeds done, Klarion turns his attention back towards Helena, sitting with her arms crossed in her chair. Regal upon her throne, like a queen. Watching him intently. Analyzing him with the same scrutinizing eyes of her dad.

"You're stronger." She remarks flatly.

He's not sure whether that was meant to be a compliment.

"Thanks?"

She shrugs.

"Just makes me wonder what you've ever done with MY head."

Klarion quickly turns defensive.

"Helena, I would never... Not without your consent. You KNOW I'd never..."

"I know." She cuts into his franticness. Her voice still holds that same indifferent monotone as before.

Eyebrow arched, Klarion sits himself more upright and alert. Is she playing games with him?

"Wait... You know?"

She nods her head 'yes', all the while going through the heavy manilla folder on her desk, laying out forms and shifting through papers. Not once does she look up from her work as they converse back and forth. She answers him honestly, but her interest lies between the lines of black and white loose-leaf.

"So if you knew I hadn't messed with your mind, why ask?"

"To hear it from you."

Klarion slumps back in his chair.

"You weren't kidding. You really don't trust me, do you?" He remarks, trying to hide how offended he feels. "By the way. Just out of curiosity. HOW do you know?"

"Psychic scanning. Had myself checked out for any internal tampering."

"I see..."

"Zatanna."

"Ah."

She looks up at him for a moment, catching his eye before returning to her work.

"You're not the only one who can read auras and do hocus pocus mind probes and such, y'know?" She remarks, eyes returned to her desk. "If you really wanna know, I had myself put through a battery of tests, both magically and scientifically to make sure I was... well... _ME. _Y'know... after coming back."

"Helena, I TOLD you I didn't alter you in any way. I brought you back and fixed your wounds. That's it!" Klarion sighs, resting his head in his hand. He already knows the answer. "But... You can't believe a word I say because you don't trust me. Is that it?"

"I trust myself." Helena replies. "And the facts."

An awkward silence washes over them. Helena sorts out papers, making marks and signing documents along the way. Klarion watches the process unfocused, completely zoned out from what she's doing. He should be paying his fullest attention, but his mind is still trying its best to process everything that's happened in the short time he's been here. The range of emotions he's feeling right now. How quickly he's gone from the highest high he's ever known, to the lowest of the lows. How hurt he is to find out she doesn't trust him. That she'd gone to such lengths to not only be rid of him, but to assure herself he hadn't done anything deceitful to her body or mind without her knowledge. As if he would ever... Doesn't she know how much he loves her? Even still. Now, at this very moment. He can't even bring himself to feel angry with her or bitter or remorseful. No spark of hatred or detest for her leaving him on his own for so long. For abandoning him. For deceiving him. He tells himself he should, but can't. He can't blame her for what she's done. Perhaps they're both to blame.

"You don't like me, do you?" Klarion finally breaks the silence. "I just don't understand, if you hate me so much, why are you doing this?"

He motions towards the paperwork on her desk, implying how she's offering her help. How she's working with him despite her obvious hatred towards him.

Again she looks up from her work. This time sitting upright, giving him her full attention.

"I don't hate you, Klarion." Helena replies. Honestly surprising him. "I never said I HATED you. I just..."

"Just what?"

"I dunno..." She says squirming in her seat a bit as if trying to find something else to focus on. This topic of her emotions is obviously not one she's all too comfortable with. "I'm just... angry? I guess?"

Angry. He can work with angry.

For the first time since hearing the crushing news that she'd left him, his heart begins to lighten. His spirit lifts. He's given hope. Watching her stoic demeanor crumble ever so slightly, flaking away to reveal a real human underneath. A human with _feelings_ and not just some carbon copy of her dreadful Bat-dad. Klarion believes he just might have a chance. A second chance. Something he'd be a fool to pass up.

"And besides, this isn't about _you_. It's about Beulah and Charity... About the Croatoans as a whole reclaiming their homeland. It's about doing what's right, despite anything you or I have been through. Your family opened their home to me when I needed it most. It's about paying it back."

Klarion's taken with her kindness, the slight warmth to her tone.

"Thank you." He says sincerely, moving on to the question that he'd been dwelling on since he got here. "So I take it you were the one who had in fact invited us today?"

She nods, returning to her work.

"Yup, this is my baby. I'm the one in charge of the whole shebang..." Her tone changes. Teetering somewhere on the lines of friendly. Something Klarion happily picks up on. "But quite truthfully, you weren't supposed to be meeting with me today. I had everything set out for my attorney to have you sign all the necessary paperwork."

"And you would have been content going the rest of your life having never seen me again. Am I correct?"

"You guessed it."

"So you could go shopping."

"In Milan." She points out.

Arms crossed, Klarion kicks back in his plush leather chair. More comfortable than he'd been before. He can't help it. A rather large grin works its way onto his black lips, stretching wide ear to ear.

Destiny works in the strangest of ways. If she hadn't screwed up, then her father wouldn't have 'punished' her, so to speak. She seems to keep a low profile for a young heiress, not to mention, a Wayne. He'd never caught anything in the news or on TV about her. She's careful. Most likely keeps to herself. And should she ever need to grace the social scene, the two run in opposite circles. He, the more seedy magic community, and she, the affluent upper crust. They're from completely different worlds. Today was a chance encounter, orchestrated by a man who likes to take control of every situation, whatever Bruce's motives might be. It's unlikely their paths would have met otherwise.

"I'm glad you snapped that poor man's neck."

It's a dark joke. Untasteful and Klarion knows it. But Helena seems to appreciate the humor, even if she doesn't mean to. A smile creeps its way upon her lips. She tries to hide it, tilting her head low, but he catches it immediately. He leans in closer, elbows on his knees, marveling at that secret little grin of hers. Taking pride in the fact that he'd put it there. He'd made her smile, as slight as it might be. Triumphant that he'd melted her cold demeanor.

"Is that a smile I see?" Klarion plays sly. She quickly wipes if away.

"I'm going to need you to sign here, here, and here. Look over paragraph 52a. Then initial here-"

Klarion's forced to snap back to reality by the sheer mass of paperwork being pushed his way. He sits upright. A mess of print offs and a pen shoved in his hands. He hasn't a clue what he's signing.

"Wait... What exactly is all this?" He interrupts her instructions. The Croatoan was invited under the impression that the Wayne Foundation would help, but to what extent he hasn't a clue.

Helena returns to her former impersonal state, or strictly business as she had put it.

"My apologies, Mr. Bleak. I've gotten ahead of myself. I'm not accustomed to these sorts of transactions. Usually I have my attorney handle these things. Thus the mess..."

She pulls a single piece of paper from the stack and hands it carefully to him. Her mood shifts to solemn.

"This is the last will and testament of Kitrina Falcone." Helena replies slow and low, very seriously. "It would appear, upon her passing that she'd left all her assets to you."

Klarion looks at her strangely, eyebrow arched.

"What?"

He glances down at the paper Helena had placed before him and suddenly he's speechless. His mind goes blank. His eyes bulge. His mouth hangs open. He looks like a total idiot. Just sitting there, gawking at the thing.

"Looks like you're a very wealthy man, Mr. Bleak." Helena purrs.

Senses slowly return. At least the ability to speak.

"That's mine?" Klarion asks, head spinning. "All this? That's... Helena, that's too much." He holds the paper to his face, trying to wrap his head around the concept of counting. "S-So many zeros..."

"It's all yours." She confirms. "Minus taxes, of course, and then there's my fee. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, but we've taken the liberty of making a certain purchase on your behalf."

"Purchase?"

She nods.

"A land purchase."

Helena pushes another paper in his direction.

"The deed to Roanoke Island."

He can't breathe. He feels like he's going to hyperventilate. He feels like he's going to explode. Giddy as can be and unable to contain his excitement, he leaps over the large oak desk once more. Who cares about the panic button happy secretary or the hoard of armed guards, he just has to hug her.

What he had tried and failed over and over again to accomplish over the past year, she'd gone and succeeded effortlessly in a single morning. She's amazing. Simply spectacular. The most astounding woman he'd ever met. To bring him from his highest high to low and back up again. No one else has that power or the ability to play with his emotions in such a way. And all without magic.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you..."

Struggling in his grasp, Helena tries in vain to dislodge his spindly arms from around her torso. It's no use, he's got a death grip on her. He's quite strong for a wiry thing.

"Alright alright. Down boy!" She laughs. "You still gotta SIGN!"

"Oh. Right right."

Klarion composes himself, sitting back down in his chair and picking up the pen, setting to work on making the transaction official. Eagerly and excitedly signing away.

The secretary walks in.

"Miss Wayne, your one o'clock is early." The young thing peeps. "Should I ask him to wait or..."

"No, we're just about done here. You can send him in once Mr. Bleak's finished up." With a pout, Helena slumps back in her chair, grumbling. "I knew I was going to miss lunch."

Klarion finishes his work, handing the stack of papers back to Helena. She gets up from her seat and he follows suit.

"Congratulations, Mr. Bleak." She says professionally, shaking his hand. "It should take between three to five business days for the finances to transfer over to your account, but in the mean time, the property is one hundred percent yours."

He wants to hug her again, but knows it isn't the place. His heart's so full. He feels so grateful.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Helena grins.

"Don't thank me." She purrs slyly. "You must have left quite the impression on the late Miss Falcone."

He's not ready to leave. Not ready for this to be over. She said she'd been content going the rest of her life never seeing him again. What if she goes back into hiding? He'd just found out she's alive. After all this time. He can't lose her again so quickly. He'd do anything to get her back. To win her affections again.

"When do you get off work?" Klarion blunders. They've stopped shaking hands, although he has yet to let go.

Helena retrieves her hand a bit sheepishly, taking the slightest step backwards and biting her lip.

"Klarion, I don't want to give you the wrong impression. Kitrina is gone. She's dead and I killed her. That money you just signed for is all that was left of her. No more loose ends..." She says in a voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. She doesn't want anyone in the hallway to overhear. "You and I are different people now. We have separate lives. I just don't want you to be disappointment. Things can't go back to the way they were before because that part of me doesn't exist anymore. That part of my life is over. Things change."

Despite her words, he remains optimistic.

"That doesn't mean we can't still be friends. That we can't try again."

"Klarion, the whole 'let's still be friends' thing never works."

"Who's to say it won't? You don't know until you try." Klarion coerces. "Come on. You and me, tonight. Dinner."

Arms crossed and eyes to the side, Helena mulls over the decision in her head. Damn her father for making her come in today and work this case personally. Damn Klarion and his big sad eyes. Damn her for not being able to say 'NO' to said big sad eyes. Damn it. Damn it all to hell...

"Only dinner." She finally relents. "As friends."

"Of course as friends!"

"You don't have the funds yet, Blue." She wisecracks. A playful jab that he can't afford her. "I'll pay."

"No. I'll pay. Money or not, I don't care how much. Tonight, we celebrate! I want to take you out to dinner whatever it is you want to go."

He's beaming inside, trying his best to contain it, to keep it from leaking out. He tells himself to play it cool, but with her little slip of a certain pet name, it's difficult to say the least.

"This isn't a date." Helena holds firm. "I'll pay for myself. We'll split it, deal?"

"Deal."

"Fine. Sushi. Meet me here. Six o'clock. Sharp." She adds. "Don't be late."

Klarion stands there like an excitable puppy, nearly bursting with joy. He buttons his lip to keep from grinning too wide. Helena rolls her eyes and grunts.

"Now get out of my office."

In a puff of red, he's gone. She breathes a sigh of relief and spins around, headed back towards her desk to ready for her next client. Today's interaction had taken more out of her than she'd expected. But to be honest, she had no idea what to expect upon seeing her ex-boyfriend again after so long. And after the way they'd left things...

Relaxing into her chair, she notices a small box left on her desk. A take-out box to be exact. A little white cardboard container, tied with blue ribbon and topped with chopsticks and a note. Klarion hadn't brought anything with him, but there's no other explanation. He HAD to have been the one to place it there. But when?

Glancing side to side, she retrieves the little scrap of paper and reads:

_"Sorry you missed lunch. - Blue"_

The slightest grin works its way onto her lips. Cracking open her chopsticks, she calls in her next appointment and sighs.

"Witch boys..."


	5. Back In Black

**BACK IN BLACK**

Home again, home again...

Ditch the jacket. Lose the tie. Faceplant onto the mattress. And breathe. Just breathe.

Today's been a whirlwind. A rollercoaster. One helluva ride. He still can't believe it. She's alive. And well. Living in Gotham. Hiding in plain sight. Right under his nose.

Sure she'd left him, but now she's back. Come out of the blue and into his life like a sweeping tornado. Stirring up old emotions, feelings in him he'd thought were long past dead. An extinguished torch that he'd been holding on to for so long, now flickered back to life. A new hope that what once was can now be again.

Klarion flips onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

"That... That really happened, right Teekl?" Klarion asks his familiar, taking a seat atop his master's chest. "She's real and I'm not dreaming, correct? Today was no hallucination?"

Teekl bites down on Klarion's arm, eliciting a loud yelp from the witch.

"OW! Ok ok ok... Point taken! Not dreaming!" He laughs, rubbing the bite mark.

Klarion folds his arms behind his head, turning his line of sight to the photographs on his nightstand. That face he wakes up to every morning. That smile. It's contagious. He can't help but smile along with her. Knowing full well that smile is no longer a memory, but a happiness he can have once more.

"She's really real." He whispers soft.

A sudden burst of energy and he springs to his feet, flinging Teekl through the air to land on all fours.

"And soon, very soon, again I'll have her as mine!"

Klarion steps in front of his wardrobe and with dramatic flair, swings open his arms much like a maestro conducting a choir. The wardrobe's doors swing open as well, following his orchestration. Like ghosts taking flight, a barrage of shirts and pants, suit jackets and ties fly from their hangers, hovering midair and tossing about the room. A black silk shirt levitates before him. Hand on his chin, the Warlock scrutinizes the thing before ultimately flinging it telepathically into the ever-growing reject pile on his bed.

"No good, no good." He whines. "I need to make an impression. Everything must be perfect!"

A skinny black tie lands square atop Teekl's head. With a huff, the cat flicks his ears, shaking said object to the ground.

"_I believe Kitty made it quite clear that this is NOT a date._" Teekl feels the need to remind.

"True, true." Klarion sighs, eyeing a satiny crimson red tie. "But she said nothing of courting or the PROSPECT of a future date."

With a rather devious grin, the Warlock plucks the red tie from thin air. It would seem he's found a winner.

"The devil's in the details, Teekl." Klarion muses, picking out a black dress shirt. "And the details are looking good."

In a swirl of red ether, the Warlock transforms the clothes he's currently wearing into the outfit he'd picked out. Skinny, black slacks, a form-fitted suit jacket, and a neat dress shirt. All black on black on black, sans the striking red tie for a pop of color. A rather slick look if he'd say so himself. Striking a debonair pose, he shows himself off for Teekl's discretion.

"So, what do you think?"

* * *

"I think I should have stayed in bed today..." Helena groans to herself while glancing over a stack of papers on her desk.

Her mind still dwells on today's events, dreading her evening plans more and more as the clock ticks down. She can't even concentrate on what case file she's currently working on. The words all blur together, no doubt she's read the same paragraph more than twice.

A tap at her office door stirs her attention. She looks up from her work to catch sight of her father standing in the doorway. Again she groans.

"What do _you_ want?"

Bruce takes a step inside, but just a step. Leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. Authoritative but not domineering. Trying to hold the peace.

"Just checking in." He replies in a fatherly tone. "How'd your meeting with Mr. Bleak go?"

Her eyes narrow angrily at him.

"You're mad at me. I get it." He chuckles, no longer idling in her doorway, but instead walking inside to take a seat down at her desk.

Her eyes follow him the entire way. Like a cat stalking a mouse crossing the room. Waiting in patience to strike. He sits down in one of the plush leather chairs and she sets her claws in.

"I don't see why you made me go through with that." She growls. "I mean, what do you get out of it? What's your end game?"

Bruce stares at her blankly, changing to a more business approach. Acting in a way as if she should already know the answer. That she shouldn't have to question his motives at all. Just do as she's told. Follow orders and don't ask why. Trust in his decision. Father knows best, after all. And the Bat's never wrong.

"It's your case. And an important one. It's only right you handle it personally rather than let the lawyers get involved."

"Bullshit."

"Helena, you're a figurehead to the company just as much as I am. It makes for better PR having you take control of the situation, which just so _happens_ to be the re-introduction of an entire subspecies back into the general populace, rather than some faceless nameless suit." He counters in that no-nonsense tone, a wave of the hand to further emphasize his point. "You don't send a grunt to handle diplomatic affairs. It's an insult otherwise."

"So why couldn't YOU handle it?"

"Not my place." He reminds sternly, leaning forward. "This is YOUR case. So YOU handle it.

Arms crossed, Helena sets her lips in a scowl as she stares out the window. He has a point, which only makes it even more aggravating. A likely excuse, however. An alibi to his true intentions, whatever they may be.

Just how many meetings has he ducked out on? How many deals left to his lawyers, or the faceless grunts as he so put it, all for his own personal agenda? Sure today was important, and for a number of reasons. But had the client been anyone else, anyone at all, there's no doubt he would have handled it for her. Especially when it means risking her identity or revealing her cover. Especially when it's hurting her so much.

"If you think you're playing matchmaker..." She grumbles.

Bruce laughs full and honestly. Caught off guard.

"That was never my intention, I assure you." He replies in a lighter tone. With a smirk, he leans forward. "Why? Do you still have feelings for him?"

Helena scoffs, nose in the air.

"That implies I ever _had_ feelings for him in the first place."

Bruce raises an eyebrow, skeptical of her response.

"You didn't?"

"Kitrina did. I didn't." She replies before adding, "And don't."

"But you and Kitrina were the same person."

"Were." Helena points out. "As in not anymore."

"She's still a part of you, you know. Past or not."

"She's buried in your backyard. I'd say that part of me is over." Helena jabs. "Lovely service, by the way."

Bruce sighs, casually leaning back in his chair, one arm over the back. The constant battle of wits. The back and forth. There's just no fighting her. The stubborn girl...

"So since you've moved on and have no problem at all separating yourself from your past life, I take it today's meeting went off without a hitch?" Bruce asks nonchalantly. It's a dig and she knows it. "You were able to handle yourself in a professional manner without letting your emotions get involved?"

Helena glares at him in such a way she just might rip his face off at any moment now. Go right for the jugular.

"Was this a test?" She sneers.

It's obvious they're no longer having a friendly conversation. Sitting upright, Bruce takes the defensive.

"Helena..."

"No, seriously. We're you testing me?"

"No." He makes perfectly clear. "I wasn't."

"Then why? What's your motive?"

"I already explained."

"What MORE? What are you hiding?"

"Why were the guards called?" Bruce asks, changing the subject. "I asked the head of security, but no one can recall. Rather convenient for a whole block of time to be missing from their memories, don't you think?"

Helena runs a hand through her hair. It's her turn to sigh.

"Klarion." Is all she replies.

"Yeah, I kinda figured." Bruce returns. "Explain."

She stares down at the papers on her desk, wishing for something to rescue her from these dreadful conversations with her father.

"He didn't buy the whole '_amnesia_' story, did he?" He asks further.

"No. He did. Completely." Helena replies. "That was the problem."

Bruce stares at her inquisitively, waiting for her to continue. Helena throws her head back and groans.

"He tried to cure me with magic." She rolls her head on the chair's headrest, staring up at the ceiling. Rubbing the heals of her palms into her weary eyes. "Thought he could restore my memory or something. Started climbing all over my desk. Making an ass out of himself."

Bruce hides a smirk at the thought.

"So what did you do?"

"I put him in a headlock."

Feeling a headache coming on, Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. Not the response he'd hoped for, but should have been expected. He shouldn't be at all surprised.

"Not everything needs to be solved with violence, Helena."

"Coming from YOU!"

Bruce plants his elbow on the armrest, resting his chin to his knuckles. Offering her the chance to continue.

"And then what happened?"

"I came clean. Told him everything." Helena explains. "And then he... invited me to dinner..."

There's no use hiding anything from or lying to the man. He's the Dark Knight. The world's greatest detective. And not only that. He's her father. There's no pulling the wool over his eyes. If he wants to know something, he'll find a way of figuring it out. One way or another.

"Dinner?"

"It's NOT a date."

"When?"

"Tonight."

Bruce steeples his fingers, placing his lips atop the point they make. He's obviously thinking about something. And very deeply.

"Dinner's good. The two of you have much to catch up on and work out." He agrees. "But after... I'm giving you tonight off."

"WHAT?!"

"I want you staying in tonight." Bruce explains further. "Relax. Take a load off. Enjoy yourself. You've earned some time off."

Completely offended and acting out, Helena jumps up from her seat, glaring at her father.

"YOU'RE BENCHING ME?"

Bruce nods to the timid secretary, assuring her everything is fine, then with one simple hand motion asks that she leave them to talk in private. Helena stands in her spot fuming. Absolutely seething with anger. Bruce returns his attention to Helena, trying his best to calm her down.

"Helena, that's not how I see it." He replies in a steady voice.

"No. You're benching me." She continues to shout. "Just tell me... What _else_ did I do wrong?"

"You've done nothing WRONG, Hel." Bruce tries to console. "Today's been highly emotional for you. I just think it would be best to take it easy and clear your head. Come back tomorrow with a better frame of mind."

"I can handle my emotions fine." She says between grit teeth.

"No. You can't." Bruce crosses his arms authoritatively, staring her down, even if seated. He's done babying her. It's not in his nature to do so anyhow. So he lays down the truth. If she wants to act like a soldier, then he'll treat her like one.

Helena slowly takes her seat. As if mirroring her father, she crosses her arms, but dares not look him in the eye. Instead her gaze turns towards the window, peering out into the busy Gotham streets below. Tears well in her eyes but she refuses to cry. Refuses to show him any weakness.

"You're a liability to yourself and to others if you can't keep your head in the game, Helena. You're volatile. Dangerous. Violent and angry. A time bomb waiting to go off. And you don't care who you have to take down. You or anyone else around you." Bruce lays it down plainly, in a voice much more akin to the Batman than her father. "I can't condone your actions any longer if you're going to be like that. So yes, I'm benching you tonight." He takes a breath, letting his voice soften just a bit. "I'm not asking, Helena, I'm telling you. Take tonight off. Clear your mind. And come back to me when you're in a better place. Ok?"

Helena nods her head slowly. Bruce rises from his seat to leave.

"And besides, when was the last time you went out? A bit of fun will do you good, for old times sake. Don't you think?" He says, returning to his previously lighter tone. A soft smile warms his lips, even though she isn't looking. It doesn't matter. She can hate him all she likes. "You don't want to become dull and boring like your old man."


	6. Horseshoes And Hand Grenades

**HORSESHOES AND HAND GRENADES**

Six o'clock and he's right on time. One second Helena's filing paperwork in her empty office, and the next Klarion's seated in one of her leather desk chairs. All in the blink of an eye.

She needn't even look up, she can smell the red magic in the air upon his arrival. That particular scent his sorcery leaves behind. Something that no matter how time passes, she can still remember so clearly. As if it were only yesterday. How could she forget? That scent of electricity and ether. Of ozone right after an Autumn rain. Of musk and dead leaves... And it's not only that. Not only that smell. She can _sense_ his presence. Feel him staring at her. Grinning like a madman with a cat.

"You're thirty seconds early." She chides.

Klarion looks down at his watch. His grin wanes.

"Am not."

With a sigh, Helena pushes her chair back from her desk and stands, grabbing her over-sized and very expensive looking purse and a light jacket as she makes her way to the door. Klarion jumps up from his seat, rushing after her as not to be left behind. She turns off her lights and locks up her office door and the two are on their way.

Klarion hasn't a clue as to where they are going, just that it's sushi. Something he isn't quite familiar with nor is he fond of, but how could he say no? And so, he follows her. Out of the building and down the block. Just a step behind, sticking close to her shadow. Fingers itching to take her hand. To reach out and touch her skin. To brush the hem of her skirt. Something. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets to restrain himself from doing so.

She's completely cold and distant, never once speaking while they make their trip to the restaurant. Still, he remains upbeat, trying his best to be positive. To put the vibe out there as she once put it.

At least they needn't walk long, just a block and a half until they've reached their destination. Ever the gentleman, Klarion opens the door for her and offers to remove her coat, to which she is hesitant, but accepts. The front of house is understandably upset that they haven't a reservation. That is until he notices just who exactly it is that will be dining in tonight. It's not every day a Wayne graces your establishment. Something like that is sure to secure him a spot in the high society section of tomorrow's papers.

Right away, he whisks them away to the best spot in the house. A private little pub table with tall chairs by the window in the back. With dim lighting and colorful fixtures, it's quite the hip venue. Sexy and mellow. The owner even overlooks their strict 'no pets' policy and pulls an extra chair up to the table for Teekl to have his very own seat. Anything to make the hot young heiress happy. The plump little tabby's never felt like such a king.

The owner, an older gentleman with grey streaky hair, hands both Klarion and Helena a set of menus, to which Helena immediately opens. She begins speaking to the man in a language Klarion recognizes as Japanese, but hasn't a clue as to what they are saying. They might as well be conversing in some otherworldly alien language. It's completely foreign to him.

Helena folds up her menu and the older man bows and retrieves it from her. Klarion still hasn't figured out which way is up when the host turns his attention towards him. The whole menu is written in the same foreign language the two had been previously speaking in. For all he knows, he looks like an idiot with his menu upside down. He can't make heads or tails of the thing. And judging by the way the older fellow is staring at him, he assumes he must be right. Looking down at him from the tip of his nose, the host give a snooty little snort before plucking the damned thing from Klarion's clutches. Then without another word, he turns on his heels and strolls away towards the kitchen.

"I didn't even order..." Klarion whines. He's completely dumbstruck by what just happened.

Helena removes a pair of chopsticks from her napkin on the table.

"I ordered for you." She replies plainly. "And Teekl too."

Klarion slumps back in his chair a bit, feeling a little emasculated that she ordered for him. Shouldn't it be _his_ job to order for _her_? And yet she's taken him to a place where he's completely out of his element and she knows it. So she's taken charge. In control. As she likes to be.

"And what did you order?" He asks.

Helena shrugs.

"A couple rolls for me, Sashimi for Teekl and a teriyaki noodle bowl for you." She replies. "Don't worry. There's nothing raw in yours. And it's sweet. You'll like it."

A smirk creeps its way onto his lips.

"You know me so well."

Helena offers a rare smirk of her own. Even if it's in jest.

"Well... I HAVE been in your head, after all." She teases. "I think I know what you like."

Klarion leans forward, elbows on the table with his arms folded one over the other. He grins a flirty grin.

"You can still walk around inside my head if you want." He purrs. "Anytime you like. Although..." His eyes trail down to the silver cross around her neck. "It's looks like that invitation is one-sided."

Helena touches a hand to her necklace.

"It's a charm to ward against my magic, am I correct?" Klarion asks.

"It's a charm to ward against ALL magic." Helena purrs sarcastically in return. "Yours included."

The witch isn't sure whether or not to be offended or turned on. It's a conflicting feeling. But he loves the challenge.

"So I can alter the environment AROUND you... But you're off limits?" He muses. "So no teleporting, time travel, mind manipulation, illusions, spells, hexes... Do potions work? Anything you'd ingest, or does it only work externally?"

Helena folds her arms across her chest and glares at him.

"WHAT? I'm curious!" Klarion laughs. "You've obviously gone through a great deal of trouble to keep me OUT. I must admit, I find it rather... endearing? I'm honored you've given it such thought. That after all these years, you still think of me." He kids. "Tell me... Do you also keep brass bells nailed to your doors and carry a pinch of salt to throw over your shoulder? I bet you have a big iron cross hung above your headboard, don't you?"

Helena's smirk turns into a smug little grin. All this talk of witches and old wives tales.

"Well, you know what they say... A cross a day keeps the witches away."

She's teasing him, taunting him as she twirls the chain to her necklace around her little finger. Like waggling a bone before a chained and collared dog. He's unable to do anything about it. Completely at a loss. Sure he wants her, and wants her bad, but as long as she's wearing that damned cross, she's forever out of reach.

"Well, aren't YOU the good little Christian..."

A waiter stops by and drops off a ceramic bottle of sake and two little cups, then quickly disperses. Klarion goes to grab them, but Helena stops him.

"You're my guest." She insists, handing him a small handle-less cup. "Let me."

She pours him a glass and then hands him the bottle.

"Your turn." She instructs. "It's customary to pour for the other person. You never pour your own and you never let your guest's go empty."

Klarion nods and fills her cup. He places the tokkuri back down on the table and the two raise their glasses.

"To New Roanoke and the Croatoan people." Helena toasts.

"To new and old friends." Klarion adds. "Especially those one and the same."

"Kanpai."

They both take a sip and place their cups back down on the table. Klarion tops off her drink and already Helena feels as though she's made a mistake. Knowing their track record when alcohol's involved, it's best she cut herself off now before she goes and does something she's likely to regret. At the same time, she's also determined NOT to have a good time tonight. If anything, just to spite her father for making her go through with this. For giving her the night off. For telling her to have fun... Helena runs through the scenario in her head, mapping out the night as if it were a mission. Just a bit of small talk if unavoidable. Eat her dinner. Pay the bill. And go. In and out. Shouldn't take more than an hour of her time. Two tops. Then he's out of her life for good this time. She'll never have to see him again.

"So you've been to Japan?" Klarion asks, taking a sip of his sake.

Helena nods, eyeing her drink.

"Business or pleasure?" He asks further.

"Neither." Helena replies. "After I... Well... After _Kitrina_ died, I took some time off for myself. Did a bit of soul-searching, y'know? Some traveling around. Try to find my bearings. Figure myself out. It took me to a lot of different places."

"And did you find what you were looking for?"

She doesn't feel comfortable opening herself up to him any further than she already has. This conversation is anything but light and she doesn't much care feeling vulnerable. But she doesn't have to answer. Just in the nick of time, her saving grace, their waiter returns with plates of food. Teekl stares excitedly at his handsome plate of assorted raw fish, thinly sliced and ready for him to dig in. Placed right down in front of him.

Eyes wide as marbles, the little cat casts his look Helena's way, begging for her approval. She laughs, the first time tonight, and leans in close enough to give him a scratch behind the ear.

"Have at it, Lover Boy." The former Catgirl purrs to her fellow feline.

The tabby needn't be told twice. His whole body rumbling in a hearty purr, he happily indulges.

Klarion watches with a small but warm smile. This is the first time Helena's interacted with Teekl all day. Like she'd been purposely avoiding him. Knowing the fuzzball would melt her heart and make her soft. Leave her open. With every chink in her armor, Klarion claims another victory. However small, he'll take each and every one he can get.

"So what brought you back to Gotham of all places?" He asks and Helena shrugs.

"My father."

"Bruce? But I thought you two never got along."

"We didn't and we don't. He doesn't approve of my methods and he drives me up a wall with all his bureaucratic bull." Helena hides a smirk. "But he's my _father_. If I really want to understand myself better and figure out who I truly am, then it's best to start at the beginning. And it begins with him. Who better to teach me about myself than family?"

As she's talking, Klarion listens intently while struggling with his chopsticks. Noodles slip from his awkward grasp, one stick falls in the bowl. Helena can't help but offer a sympathetic smile, leaning forward to give him a hand.

"Here."

She nimbly takes hold of his hand in hers, sliding the chopsticks into the proper position between his fingers. Frozen, he stares straight ahead at her, eyes locking as she helps him. A blush warms his skin, striking the tips of his elfin ears with an alluring shade of plum. His breath hitches. His heart feels as if it might burst.

Even without his magic, he has the power of making her forget herself. Slipping out of that cold, impersonal demeanor and into something that almost resembles someone that he used to know. Even if it's for a single fleeting moment.

Helena sits up abruptly, noticing the dreamy way Klarion's gazing at her. That goofy grin. Those swooning eyes... She tucks a phantom strand of hair behind her ear, feeling a bit out of place. Unfortunately she can't rely on their waiter stopping by to save her from another awkward situation. So she swigs back another cup of sake and shoves a roll in her mouth. With a widening grin, Klarion refills her cup.

"So your father doesn't approve of your methods?" Klarion purrs almost seductively. "I'm supposing you mean your... _nightly activities_. The sort that include neck snapping?"

Klarion finishes another cup of his own sake and Helena obliges him a refill.

"He thinks I'm too violent. Volatile was the word he used. Says I'm a liability to myself and to everyone around me."

"Are you?"

"Maybe?" She replies uneasily, squirming a bit. "I dunno... I mean. Don't they deserve it? They're criminals."

"So were you. As was I." Klarion reminds. "Perhaps a bit of mercy?"

"Mercy?" Helena laughs. "Mercy doesn't strike fear into the hearts of evil."

Klarion scoops a wad of noodles into his mouth, slurping them up before washing it down with a sip of sake.

"Why are you so angry?" He asks deadpan.

The million dollar question to which there really is no answer. Something she'd had many conversations with her older brother Jason about. Someone to commiserate with as they've both been down that road before. A path that they're still walking, to which there is no end.

Helena eats her food, saying nothing on the subject because there's nothing there to say.

"Maybe you just need to get laid." Klarion teases, offering an answer for her.

Taken completely by surprise, Helena nearly spits her food out all over the witch seated in front of her. She blushes a deep crimson.

"WHAT?!"

Klarion laughs heartily. That high-pitched whiney cackle of his.

"It's something you once said to me."

Helena chuckles a little, albeit anxiously. Composing herself, she shrugs, easing up a bit as she reaches for her sake cup.

"Maybe you're right." She replies to his off-color comment. "Sounds like something I would'a said, huh."

Both return to eating, but still the question lingers in Klarion's mind. He just can't put it down. Swirling the noodles with the pointed end of his chopsticks, he just has to ask.

"So... Are you seeing anyone?"

Helena shifts a bit uneasily.

"Umm... Yeah."

"I see..."

Again, silence. Klarion leans back in his seat, head rolled to the side, tapping his chopsticks against the edge of his plate. Obviously upset. While Helena leans forward, shoulders raised and hunkered down into her food. Tense and on-edge. And then there's poor Teekl. The tabby in the middle. Acting as moderator and worried as usual. Begging his master not to act on his impulsive nature. Of course, the witch never listens.

"So, he's unable to please you sexually. Is that it?"

This time Helena nearly chokes on her food, swallowing a big chunk of a spicy tuna roll whole. She looks up to catch Klarion grinning darkly at her. A smug expression on his face.

"Interesting." He purrs.

Helena takes a sip of her sake to wash down the huge bite she'd taken before answering. Now even more defensive than before.

"How is that interesting?"

Klarion shrugs, looking down at his chopsticks as he plays with his half-eaten food. That same complacent expression still spread across his face.

"It's just that... Well... I don't recall ever having a problem in that department." He jeers, stifling a chuckle. "He mustn't be much of a man."

Helena stares at the Warlock in both shock and disgust. She's offended. Mouth open, just glaring at him. He's certainly grown more brazen in his age, that's for sure. Would the old Klarion been so bold to have said such a thing to her? Maybe when they'd first met. When he acted like a total jerk and treated her like a whore. Is that what he's reverted to?

"Ok, one? He PLEASES me just fine. And two? We are NOT having this conversation, ok?" She breathes, maintaining her cool. Actually proud of herself for not reaching across the table to rip that damned grin off his face. "I'm not talking to my EX-boyfriend about my current love life. Got it?"

Klarion shrugs, but he certainly isn't done. The bitter pangs of jealousy grip at his chest. Teekl can feel it too. Emanating from him like a dark seeping cloud. He can feel the corners of his lips pulling tight into a scowl, but he forces himself to appear indifferent. Act cool. This was to be seen, after all. How can one expect someone as lovely and wonderful as her to play the celibate nun these past six or so years? It's an unrealistic expectation, but still, he had hoped and now he's horribly let down. Acting out to hide his pain.

"Is he anyone I know?" He pries.

"No." Against her better judgment, Helena replies. "He's pedestrian."

"Hmm... How tragically mundane. No wonder he doesn't thrill you as he should."

Helena scoffs, appalled. She's gripping her chopsticks so tight she's just realized they've snapped in her fist. The jagged points pierce at her fleshy palm, but still she holds on. If she were to let go there'd be nothing keeping her from doing the same to his neck.

"Yeah well... Call him boring all you like but he's SAFE." Helena says, forcing herself to calm. "I don't have to worry about him _lying_ to me, or _keeping_ anything from me, or _messing_ with my head, or make me question whether or not I can _trust_ my own emotions, whether I'm living in the _real_ world and not some _fantasy_ he's created all for his _own_ sick pleasure... So yeah. I'll happily take the mundane. Thank you very much."

Now it's Klarion's turn to be offended. How many times must he clear himself of these accusations?

"I TOLD you, Helena. Back at your office, I TOLD you I'd never." Klarion defends. "I _have_ never and _would_ never use my magic against you. I'd never _force_ you to do anything you wouldn't want. I'd never _alter_ your perceptions or _pry_ into your mind and do with you as I wish. I COULD. Very easily I could. But I wouldn't and you KNOW that. You said yourself, you had yourself checked for... what was it... psychic tampering? I'm hurt you would even think of me that way."

"Yeah well, you say a lot of things, don't you." Helena seethes. "Like how you didn't make any changes to me when you brought me back?"

"That's because I DIDN'T! I have done NOTHING to you!" He defends further. "Nothing has changed from before I fixed your wounds and breathed life back into you. That is all. You are exactly as you were. "

"Then how do you explain this, hmm?" She points angrily to her head. "This isn't a dye job, y'know?"

Klarion stops fighting and grows limp. He stares at her, unsure what to say. The gears are spinning, but his mind has gone blank.

"What?"

"Oh don't deny it. You toyed with my genetics. I have tests to prove it." She relents. "I gave you a chance to come clean, but you LIED to me. Just like you're lying to me now. It's just like Uriah said..."

"WHAT DID URIAH SAY?"

Klarion's eyes burn red. His sharpened nails dig into the sides of the table, making it creak and groan beneath him. He's visibly shaking with anger.

Just the sound of that little weasel's name is enough to make him lose control. He hadn't seen the devil since the night of the witch's gathering, that bonfire so very long ago. Though he'd known Uriah had visited Kitrina. That fateful night she'd left him. When his entire world had come to end. What had transpired between the two, however, perhaps he'll never know.

Helena gets up from her seat, grabbing her purse and jacket before tossing a couple large bills down on the table.

"It doesn't matter." She replies emotionless, back to her lovely cold self. "Goodbye, Mr. Bleak. Enjoy your island."

* * *

_**Jason Todd name drop FTW! Promise we'll be seeing him later! xoxo**_


	7. Tearing Down Walls

**TEARING DOWN WALLS**

What was she thinking going out with him tonight? That they'd both act like civilized adults, eat their meals in silence, then casually go about their separate ways? Of course things were bound to get heated. Of course there'd be tension and heartache and bitterness and pointed fingers and accusations and betrayal... And of course there'd be pain. Nothing in this world is without pain.

Helena walks the side streets, keeping away from the crowds and the noise. In the dark where she belongs. Where no one can see her crying. She wipes the tears from her bleary eyes and continues forward. Maybe her father was right. She's a time bomb waiting to go off. Explosive. Hurting everyone in her path, including herself.

"Why are you so angry?" Helena whispers to herself. The question Klarion had asked earlier, to which she couldn't answer. She forces a grin and shakes her head, keeping her eyes to the ground. "Because I don't belong here."

The sound of footsteps from behind cause her to reach into her purse. Hand on the trigger but not brandishing her weapon just yet.

"KITTY!"

With a groan, Helena quickly wipes away any stray tears. He just had to follow her, didn't he. He can't leave well enough alone. Across time or across rooftops, the universe or asphalt, he'll always be chasing her. Can't let her escape.

"Go away." She calls over her shoulder as she quickens her pace, trying to leave him behind.

No such luck.

A brilliant red light flashes, illuminating the dark alleyway, and he's teleported himself in front of her. Blocking her path.

"I don't want to talk to you."

She turns on her heels, ready to retreat in the opposite direction, when again he's teleported in front of her. This time, however, she's prepared. Quick to draw, she pulls her compact crossbow out from within the confines of her purse at the same exact moment it takes him to zap into place. And as he reappears before her, he's met with the pointed end of a crossbow bolt.

They find themselves in deadlock. Eyes narrowed on her prey, Helena refuses to stand down. The smart choice, Klarion raises his hands in surrender, eyes crossed and focused on the arrowhead poking his nose.

"Huh... So that's why you carry around such a large purse." Even at a time like this, he finds humor. Suddenly his eyes grow wide. They excitedly find hers. "You took up archery!"

With a groan, Helena places her weapon back inside her purse.

"I didn't have much of a choice." She replies, referring to a spell he'd performed so very long ago in Limbo Town. One in which she had agreed to do whatever task he'd asked of her. "I promised, didn't I?"

She walks past him, still determined to leave.

"Now leave me alone."

"But, Hel..."

"No."

"Bu-"

"I said NO-"

She turns to yell at him, only to find a smooth white wall in her face. Turn again and yet another wall. In every direction, he's enclosed her in a big white box. Complete with floor and ceiling, there's no escape. She's trapped.

"I can alter your surroundings, remember?"

She can hear him speaking to her from the other side. Only slightly muffled, the walls mustn't be thick. And yet as she tries to punch her way through, she finds they're as strong as the thickest concrete. She doesn't even leave a scratch. Not a single dent in her makeshift prison.

"LET ME OUT!" She shouts.

"Not until you listen to what I've got to say."

"LET ME OUT OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that? Let you out... Really." Klarion tisks. "You know as well as I, should I set you free then you really WILL kill me. It's better you hear me out first."

Klarion leans against the box, half listening, half idly checking his nails for dirt as she throws a tantrum inside. Cursing and yelling and banging her fists against the walls like the feral cat she is. Teekl hops up top, a worried look on his furry face. This doesn't sit well with the tabby. But after a good five minutes, things have finally quieted down.

"Are we done yet?" Klarion taunts. "Ready to listen?"

There's silence within the box, followed by a quiet "Fine."

"Fine?" He asks the box, wondering if he'd heard correctly, even though he surely knows he had. Klarion cups his ear and leans in, almost cartoonish. He's enjoying this.

"FINE!" She yells and this time he happily hears her.

"Good." He claps his hands. "Then we may begin."

Folding his arms across his chest, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The silliness is over, much to his disliking. It's time to get real. To put his heart out there and hope for the best. But no doubt expect the worse.

The giant-sized white box stares at him blankly, waiting for him to speak, to state his mind and say what he needs to say. Somehow he thought it would be easier talking to a wall than have to face those glaring green eyes and talk to her directly. Yet once again he's wrong. Nothing's ever easy.

"Look, I'm... sorry. Ok?"

Head low, he runs his fingers through his hair. Rubbing up and down his neck anxiously.

"I'm sorry about the way things ended between us. I'm sorry for lying to you about your death. I'm sorry for keeping the truth about your parents from you. I'm sorry for the way I acted in there. For saying those horrible things about your boyfriend. I'm sure he's a... a really... great... guy." Klarion sighs heavily. That last part was hard. "I'm sorry for everything."

Turning his back to the box, he slides down the side to take a seat on the ground. Back to back, they sit together with a wall between them. Just as their relationship has always been.

"You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me, Kitty." He confesses thoughtfully and honestly. His words are heartfelt. His voice a bit shaken. "And I screwed it up. I screwed US up. And I'm sorry. But you have to believe me that I never meant for this. I never meant to hurt you. I never... I didn't KNOW, Helena. When I brought you back, I was a mess. Frantic. I'd never done anything like that before and I wouldn't dare again. So when I say I fixed you flawlessly, believe me that I thought just that. I had no reason to deceive you. I had no idea..."

He breaks down, as does his wall. Head in his lap and knees pulled in tight, he wraps his arms around his legs and sobs. Helena sits there, free to leave but how could she? She can't leave him this way. So broken and upset. And so she does the only thing she can think to do. She rests her head on his back, right between his shoulder blades, nestled just below the nape of his neck, and wraps her arms around him soothingly.

"I'm so sorry, Hel-"

"Shhh... It's ok. Really." She consoles, stroking his chest from behind. "Look. It's just as much my fault, ok? I shouldn't blame you for everything. I shouldn't have yelled at you back there. I shouldn't have left you like I did. It's just... I never expected to come back... It's not like that was the first time I'd ever faked my own death. It's just the first time with collateral damage, I guess. I never meant to hurt anyone. Especially you. I just... I-I'm sorry, too."

Klarion turns his head to glance at her, his eyes still wrought with such worry. Shaking, he's still so very upset.

"Did I alter you greatly?" He asks. He's still caught up on the fact that when he brought her back, he must have done something wrong. Changed her somehow. "Helena, you have to believe me, I didn't mean-"

"I believe you. I know." Helena cuts in, holding him tight. "I have no idea how far the mutation spread. For all I know it's just my hair. A-And it's really no big deal, ok? I like the black! Really! I'm sorry I even brought it up. I shouldn't have accused you like that."

"You have every reason to be upset. Helena."

"No. No I don't." She replies. "I'm just so angry. All the time. And I'm sorry. I don't mean to b-"

Straining his neck, Klarion reaches behind to pull her down towards his lips. Surprisingly, she doesn't protest, just gives in to him freely. It feels so right, how could it possibly be wrong? Everything's as it should be. As it was meant to be.

He shifts his body to make their embrace more comfortable. Turning to face her, but not breaking from their kiss. His fingers weave into her hair, cupping her face sweetly. He wishes he could purr, for he surely would. The deep longing he feels right now. The happiness and contentment. The love and sweet surrender. He's never felt so blissful as when he's in her arms. And though he cannot feel her aura, he hopes that she can still feel his. That she knows how wonderful she makes him feel. How truly and deeply he still loves her. How she's stolen his heart. How he needs her.

Lips parting, Klarion goes to deepen the kiss. Helena knows she shouldn't, and this time listens to that nagging inner voice. With her hands on his chest, she pulls back.

"Klarion, I..."

"Boyfriend... Right."

"I'm sorry."

Klarion reluctantly gets to his feet and dusts off his slacks. Reaching down, he offers Helena his hand, to which she accepts and he pulls her back up.

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

Helena fixes her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. She hasn't a clue what to say.

"We... We can't be doing this."

"Can I at least see you again?"

"Klarion..."

Her gaze shifts downwards towards his shoes. Unable to look him in the eye.

"I don't mean romantically. As friends." He explains, reaching out to take hold of her hand dearly. "Look... Helena. You _know_ how I feel about you... It would make me the happiest man in the world if you... If you chose to be with me. But if it's not meant to be and we cannot be more than friends, then I would gladly choose your friendship over nothing at all. Kitty, I can't lose you again."

She can hear Teekl purring beside her, coaxing her to agree. To return to their lives. Looking down, she catches his eyes in the dark alleyway. Those two big round orbs, pleading her to stay. She instantly regrets ever doing so. Now how can she possibly say no? With a sigh, she's swayed.

"Sure. Ok, fine."

They'd tried the whole friendship thing in the past and look how well that worked out for them. Someone's bound to get hurt and she knows it, yet still she agrees. She just can't help herself when he's involved. She never could. Something over the years she'd come to blame on his magic, though she's quickly finding out that his pull over her has nothing to do with the supernatural at all. And she hates herself for letting him get to her like that. For making her feel such a way. For giving in. For feeling weak. For loving him so.

"May I walk you home?"

* * *

Helena opens the door and steps inside her apartment, locking the door behind her and kicking off her heels. A sigh of relief escapes her lips, still smudged ever so slightly from where he had kissed her. She quickly wipes her mouth, making sure her indiscretions aren't at all too noticeable.

"Long day?" A man's voice calls from the living room.

Removing her jacket and placing it on the hook beside the door, Helena enters their shared apartment. Her boyfriend, right where she'd expected him to be. Sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels with a beer in hand. Tragically mundane as Klarion had put it. Safe.

"Longest of my life." Helena calls in return.

Placing an arm over the back of the couch, he turns to give her his full attention.

He's handsome. A bit older than she, just by a couple of years. Sandy, light brown hair and cool blue eyes. Normal. Nothing extraordinary, but good-looking none the less. With broad shoulders and a fit physique, he's much more built than the wiry Warlock, that's for sure.

"Can I pour you a glass of wine?" He asks. "There's some leftover manicotti in the fridge if you're hungry."

"No. That's alright. I think I'm just going to get into bed if that's ok."

He looks at her concerned. It's rare to see her at night, especially this early.

"You feelin' alright?"

Honestly, she feels like her world is off kilter. Like she's been hit by a freight train. She'd planned on going out tonight after her dinner with Klarion to blow off some steam. If anything, just to spite her father further for benching her. To prove he's not in control of her life and her actions. That he doesn't make the rules. But now...

"Yeah, yeah." She lies, hiding the truth. "I just... I just need to lie down."

With soft eyes, he offers her a warm and sympathetic smile. There's nothing worse than a rough day at the office.

If only he knew.

"I'll be in in a little bit, alright? Just gonna finish watching the game." He returns sweetly. "Love ya."

Helena mumbles gibberish, an incomprehensible response as she enters their room and closes the door. A zombie as she strips down to practically nothing and crawls into bed.

Warm cotton sheets greet her and she can't help but purr. It's been a long day, indeed. Tiring. Dramatic. Emotionally draining. Confusing to say the least.

Hand slipping from the covers, she reaches down onto the floor to find her bra to retrieve something that she'd earlier tucked inside. An old habit. Sticky fingers. You can take the girl out of the cat...

A smile creeps its way onto her lips as she drags her claim into bed with her. Pulling it in tight to feel the silk against her bare skin. Taking a deep breath, she breathes him in. That smell of burning leaves and old leather-bound books she'd once held so dear.

Her stomach turns to butterflies, fluttering, they carry her to sleep.

* * *

Klarion stands before his bed, tired and worn thin. Still so very much in shock of today's events. And while the day might be done, the war has just begun. Love and longing fill his veins, depression and determination. He _will_ win her affection. He mustn't lose. Tomorrow's another day, another battle. But first he must rid her of that pesky paramour. A deviously fun task, indeed.

Slowly, he unbuttons his suit jacket, letting the garment fall to the floor where he stands. Hands reach for his tie, only to find it missing. A curious feeling, his fingers remain frozen in place where his tie should very well be.

His eyebrows knit, deep in thought. Confused. Completely dumbstruck. He's at a loss. From his spot on the bed, Teekl watches, head cocked and just as curious.

"I... I thought... Did I... But... Huh." Klarion stammers, looking around at his feet to the clothes strewn about the floor. He scratches his head. "Teekl? Have you seen my tie?"

* * *

_**Just to make clear, Hel's boy toy is no one we know. He's completely OC. Which is probably for the best. Not that Klarion would care, mind you. Next chapter, he brings the chaos...**_


	8. Happy Hunting

**HAPPY HUNTING**

Per the norm, it's a grey and gloomy day in Gotham. Overcast skies, threatening the good people below with the promise of rain. Klarion and Teekl sit atop a high-rise, perched on the roof amongst the many gargoyles and pigeons that call these skies home.

A light breeze in his hair, Klarion's tie flaps in the wind much like a black flag. The dreaded symbol of a pirate. An anarchist. An omen of doom for all those poor souls unlucky enough to be caught in his sights.

The witch's legs hang over the edge, touching nothingness. Giddy with anticipation, he can't keep himself from swinging them to and fro. Playfully, like a child.

Helena had let him walk her home the other night. He knows where she lives. Well, not entirely. Just the building. But that's all he needs. It's enough.

Of course when he'd offered to escort her, he had done so out of the goodness of his heart. Out of chivalry and not envy nor wrath. There was no malicious intent. At least not towards her. And yet, when life gives you lemons... Surely, he'd be a fool to look this gift horse in the mouth. He just NEEDS to see who this mysterious man is that's gained HIS woman's fancy. That's gone and stolen his mate out from under him. He who has taken what is rightfully his. The curiosity is killing him.

So here he sits patiently. Like a cat standing guard over a mouse-hole. Waiting for the little rat to emerge so he can sink his claws in. A devious grin stretches the Warlock's black lips tight across his face. Teekl takes notice and purrs alongside him. It's been so very long since they've had such fun. It's good to be bad every now and then. To let chaos reign.

_"How will you know when you see him, brother?"_ Teekl asks telepathically, noticing the various people coming and going from the building.

Eyes burning with red magic, Klarion scans the busy street below, watching the front door closely.

"Ohhhh... I'll know. Just you see." He sing songs. "If Kitty's come into direct contact with him for an extended period of time, say _overnight_, then he's a marked man. He'll carry her scent. I just have to sniff him out, is all. Easy pickings in my book."

Overnight. The word sticks in his mouth as soon as he says it. The thought of her sharing the same dwelling with this man. The same bed...

_"And what shall you do with him once you find him?"_

"Whatever I like."

_"Might I eat him?"_

"hmm... Perhaps. Though it would probably be best that we keep him alive, I suppose. It would reflect poorly on my role as leader of a newly formed colony should we be figured out. We don't want to take any unnecessary risks on the off-chance they'll strip me of my title or worse, void the land agreement. _ughhh_... Grownup problems..." Klarion sighs gloomily, rolling his eyes. "So, just a bit of harmless fun. For now. Unless provoked otherwise."

The witch's eyes grow wide, he's truffled out his target. Even from countless stories up, the wind licking at his face, and the low visibility, he can spot him dead on. Locked in his sights. The witch's grin widens. He's got him right where he wants him. Now to go in for the kill.

Let the games begin.

Teekl knows the score. He wraps himself around his master's shoulders and hangs on for dear life. There's no stopping the Warlock when he gets this way. Best to buckle up and enjoy the ride. And enjoy he will.

"Geronimo!"

Pushing off the edge of the rooftop, the pair begin to plummet, quickly gaining speed as they descend the building. Klarion's raven hair whips wildly around his face. His eyes shine electric. Excited. The thrill of the chase as his heart beats fiercely in his chest. Reckless and out of control.

A swirling red and black portal opens below them, swallowing the pair whole. Plucking them from the sky and replacing them on the sidewalk below. No one takes notice of the duo's appearing act. It's as if they're completely invisible to the world around them. Like ghosts among the crowd.

Klarion stands tall, completely in his element. He straightens his suit jacket and fixes his tie. Nose in the air with a suave sense of dignity.

_"Was that really necessary?"_ Teekl huffs.

_"Necessary?"_ Klarion chuckles, communicating to his cat with his mind. He doesn't want anyone to accidentally hear them. That would spoil the surprise. _"No... That was fun!"_

Eyes still burning crimson, Klarion picks back up the trail of their little mouse. He hasn't gotten far. The hotdog vendor just a couple hundred feet away. Stalking his prey, the Warlock approaches. Getting in nice and close to size up his competition. To eye him up and down with great scrutiny. And even greater displeasure.

He's a decent height. Robust. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Caucasian. Blah. No discerning qualities. Not even a meta. He's got absolutely nothing going for him. Nothing special at all.

Crossing his arms, Klarion pouts.

For the life of him, he hasn't a clue what Helena sees in the guy. Sure, he's good-looking. He guesses. Whatever... Quite truthfully, he painfully plain. Just average. Not at all the tall, dark, and devilishly handsome fellow HE is. With his exotic skin tone and smoldering eyes. The mysterious sort of fellow women should swoon over. And yet, vanilla ice cream over here has the girl and Klarion's left in the friend zone. So, why's that?

_"Somebody is jealous..."_ Teekl teases.

_"Shut it."_ Klarion groans.

Sure, the man has some muscles. Quite a few. Ok, a LOT more than him... Helena DID always like a man with strong hands and an even stronger body. A jock, which Klarion most definitely is NOT. But still, does he have a strong mind to back up that physique? An educated fellow to match wits with her? Can he hold a conversation? Treat her right? Make her happy? Make her purr? Give her anything and everything she wants and needs? Satisfy her every desire? Can he do anything more than just act the part of arm candy and FLEX at her?

_"I wonder what their babies will look like..."_

Klarion begins to shake. A growl rumbling in his belly at his familiar's persistent taunting.

It's no wonder she's so angry all the time. Hell, HE'S angry just standing in the general vicinity of the guy. Watching as he converses with the hot dog vendor. Acting all friendly and nice and neighborly and...

Date a cat burglar and you're bound to pick up a few tricks. With his own magical spin added, a simple hand motion and the guy's wallet levitates out of his back pocket and right into Klarion's hand.

Made of smooth, dark leather, the wallet feels expensive in his grasp. Possibly a gift Helena had given him, but Klarion really doesn't care. He opens the thing up, and retrieves an ID, tossing the rest into the trashcan by the cart.

_"Kevin..."_ Klarion scoffs, turning to his cat. _"What kind of a name is Kevin?"_

_"Sounds like a dimwitted name to me." _Teekl purrs_. "Easy game."  
_

Sporting a Cheshire grin, Klarion tosses Kevin's identification in the trash to join his wallet.

_"You can say THAT again!"_

Taking the last bites of his hotdog, Kevin finishes up his chat with the vendor and reaches into his back pocket only to find his wallet missing. He apologizes profusely, offering to run back upstairs to his apartment to go look, but the friendly vendor tells him not to worry. He'll make up for it tomorrow. The two are obviously friendly, Kevin's a regular. He's got his back. The two shake hands, Kevin waves goodbye, then departs. The vendor returns to serving his other customers.

Arms crossed, Klarion huffs. That wasn't what he'd wanted to see. People actually LIKE the guy. He's far too pleasant. It's making him sick.

Time to turn things around.

A couple steps away, Kevin searches his pockets again, still worried about his wallet. He thinks to return to his apartment, but Klarion changes his mind for him. Leaning in close enough to whisper in the man's ear, still unseen, he plants the seed.

"I'll search for it later." Klarion instructs in a hushed tone, working his magic.

Kevin stops what he's doing and stands straight, face blank and eyes glazed. Like a puppet and the Warlock the puppeteer. The ventriloquist to the dummy, putting words in his mouth. Nothing but a mindless drone.

"I'll search for it later." Kevin copies.

"Best be on my way." Again Klarion says.

"Best be on my way." And again Kevin repeats, completely unaware he's being controlled.

The man returns to his morning routine, on his way to work or wherever it was he was going before the Warlock and his cat crossed his path. It doesn't matter. Whatever his plans might have been for the day have now been taken over by the wily witch on a personal vendetta.

Klarion had promised, he'd _vowed_ never to command or influence Helena's actions. To make her bend to his will. To use his magics against her in any way that can be deemed dirty or deceitful. But he'd never said anything about those around her. Especially those who deserve it. And as far as he's concerned, this dimwit _deserves_ it. In fact, he deserves so much worse for stealing her affections away from him. To take another man's bond mate is an offense punishable by death. For his adulterous actions, he should be burned at the stake for all to observe. It's really quite simple. You DON'T mess with Klarion the Warlock. It's bad enough should a black cat cross your path, but cross a witch...

In silence, Klarion follows him, just a few steps behind. He acts as his shadow, never far and always there. Lurking.

They pass another hotdog vendor and this time an idea comes to mind. A simple spell and all the ketchup and mustard containers erupt, sending an explosion of condiments Kevin's way as he walks past. Bystanders shout in surprise as they're splattered in the mess Klarion's made. Though the real mess is Kevin, reduced to nothing more than a sloppy red and yellow monster.

Arms raised, the man looks himself over in shock. Although he doesn't have much time to process his strange predicament. A car rolls past a giant puddle, creating a tidal wave of grey, murky street water to crash down upon him, adding insult to injury. While he may not be covered in condiments any longer, they've all but washed away, now he's just soaking wet. Grimy and disgusting.

It takes everything in Klarion's power not to laugh out loud. Pleased with himself and his handiwork.

As all eyes remain focused on the unfortunate man, the witch snags two hotdogs from the cart in the confusion. A reward for his triumph. And one for Teekl too. Happily smug, they gawk along with the rest of the crowd, having a snack and a chuckle.

After a moment or two, they've finished their treat and Klarion decides it's time they move along. There's more fun to be had elsewhere.

"I'll dry." He whispers in Kevin's ear.

"I'll dry."

"Gotta keep going."

"Gotta keep going."

And so the walk of shame continues. The sopping wet man, dripping along the way as he shambles down the street. And then there's Klarion and Teekl, out of sight, but never far behind. People turn to stare. They whisper and snap photos. Laugh and elbow one another as Kevin's luck goes from bad to worse. The warlock's only getting warmed up.

Their trek brings them by a pet store. A pack of dogs escape and tear his pants to shreds. Then beside a building being renovated, where an exterior painter drops a bucket of chartreuse paint atop his head. Next, a bakery, where an all out pie fight breaks out. Lemon meringue and banana cream thrown amongst flying slices of cherry and apple à la mode. That's about when the stray cats begin to follow, mewling and begging for a taste. Only to be scared away as a rogue soccer ball comes hurtling through the air to hit the poor man point-blank in the groin. And then there was the drunken vagrant that sidled up beside him to urinate on his shoe. Followed by the flock of geese flying overhead...

The fun commences for hours of delight, bringing them to Robinson Park, where Klarion and Teekl decide to take a much needed break. To rest from their merriment. Sitting on a park bench, enjoying a nice ice cream cone as they watch their human punching bag being chased around the open field by a ruffian gang of toddlers wielding wiffle ball bats, a dog off his lease, it's owner chasing after, a lawnmower gone out of control, and one very angry squirrel.

Klarion kicks back. One arm swung over the backrest. Legs crossed. Completely at ease. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a satisfied sigh. Life is good.

He really should feel bad for Kevin. It's really not his fault. Not entirely... He can't BLAME the guy for being attracted to Helena. And it's not like the man KNEW who he was messing with. That his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend comes complete with some very tricky baggage. That of the ex-boyfriend variety, who just so happens to be one of the most powerful sorcerers in all the known universe. And not to mention, has one helluva overactive imagination to boot. A vindictive sort of fellow that doesn't much CARE whether Kevin knows of Helena's past lives and secrets and bedfellows. Who just wants to sit back and relax, and laugh at the spineless oaf's expense. To watch him be humiliated. To watch him suffer. All for the simple reason that it makes him feel better inside. And it does. It really, really does.

A shrill scream cuts across the field as the squirrel finally attacks. Klarion happily smiles.

"I wonder if Gotham has an aquarium." The Warlock asks his companion, taking another lick of his cone. A smirk crosses his lips and he looks down at his cat seated beside him. "What do you think, Teekl?"


	9. Into The Red

**INTO THE RED**

Wayne Enterprises. Noon. On the dot.

Helena stands at the impressively large turnstile doors in the even more impressively large front lobby of her family's business. A strange word. Family. One she's still coming to terms with, but fills her with a happy feeling, none the less. Even if she doesn't show it.

She stares down at her watch for the tenth time in nearly just as many minutes. Her black patent heels tapping against the marble floor impatiently as she scans the passing crowd outside for a familiar face. Her lunch date. Correct that. Her LATE lunch date.

A sigh escapes her lips and she rolls her eyes. Screw him. She'll just go back up to her office and order something in. She probably has a granola bar in her desk or something to hold her over anyway.

Arms crossed, Helena turns on her heels, ready to march right back upstairs when she bumps into someone very unexpected. Klarion the Warlock appears immediately behind her just as she turns to walk right into him. Caught off guard, she stumbles back. He's gotten the drop on her, something not many are capable of accomplishing. It happens so quickly, she didn't even sense his approach.

Surely her father will scold her for finding herself so ill-prepared. Even if it's out of uniform and in broad daylight. She can already hear him reprimanding in her head. One must always be ready for any situation that arises. But how can you possibly account for every variable when you're dealing with someone who can bend the very fabric of time and space? And it's not like she can PLAN when he decides to pop in and out of her life. After their ill-fated dinner NOT-a-date the other night, she hadn't expected to run into him, quite literally, so soon.

Klarion reaches a hand forward to catch her trip up. Grabbing hold of her waist to steady her after he'd swept her off her feet. Carefully, he rights her back onto steady footing and pulls her into him a bit tighter. Almost an embrace.

Stomach to stomach, he holds her close. Close enough to smell her perfume. To feel the outline of her body pressed against his. Something he has yearned for for such a very long time. Years even. Something that he'd never thought he'd have the pleasure of feeling again, what with her supposed death and all. It's something he'd only dreamed of.

A whole head difference in height, he grins down at her sweetly. Helena looks up at him in both shock and awe. Like a fawn caught in headlights. Just staring into obsidian with those big, doe-like eyes of hers. A damsel and he, the swashbuckling hero in black. It's more than enough to make her heart skip a beat. Her breath hitches. A slight rouge sets into her cheeks.

"I... Klarion. What are you doing here?" She stammers softly, blood returning to her brain. "H-Hi Teekl."

Teekl meows his greeting, happily purring atop his master's shoulders. Klarion reluctantly releases his grasp on her and she timidly takes a step back.

"I came to see if you were free for lunch." He charmingly replies.

Helena anxiously glances over her shoulder towards the glass doors, twirling her hair around her finger.

"I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Oh?" Klarion feigns surprise. "Plans with the _boyfriend_, I suppose? Might I meet him?"

Helena returns her eyes to glare at the witch. Under no circumstances does she want THAT to happen. Like oil and water, old should NEVER mix with new. There's no telling how either would react. If only she knew, it's already too late.

"WHAT! I only want to MEET him. No harm in MEETING. You know. Say hello. Shake his hand. Maybe place a curse upon his soul..."

Klarion tilts his head, smiling coyly at her. His body sways left and right playing sheepish. The puckish devil... Helena can't help but giggle at his words, thinking that he's joking. Only Teekl and the witch, himself, knows he's not.

"I'll wait with you, then. Only until he arrives. Promise." Klarion eagerly replies. "There are some things I'd like to discuss with you about Roanoke, anyway."

She looks down at her watch, nose scrunched and lips quirked to the side. Thinking hard about something.

"I..."

"Pleeeeeeeaaaaase?"

Hands clasping one another, Klarion pleads childishly. The sort of silly action that tends to get him what he wants. Especially with her.

"Oh... Alright." Helena relents. "He's late anyway. Something probably came up and was called into the precinct."

"Precinct?"

"Mhm. He's a cop."

"A cop." Klarion repeats almost deadpan. Suddenly a smile creeps its way onto his face. He can't help but chuckle. "The cop and the thief. How delicious! Please tell me you see this irony in this?"

"FORMER thief." Helena corrects in a hushed tone. "And I'd thank you very much to keep your voice down."

Head cocked to the side playfully, Klarion continues to pester.

"So how'd you two meeeeeeet?" He teases. "OH! Has he ever used his handcuffs on you? I bet you'd just LOVE that! What about your father? Not the handcuffs... That's just gross... The gun. I know he has a very strict 'no guns' rule. Must he leave his service revolver at the door when visiting? How does Bruce feel about you dating a cop? Does it interfere with your 'nightly excursions'? Does he KNOW?"

Helena groans and rolls her eyes.

"Anyway... He's probably not coming." She chooses not to reply to his rather long-winded torrent of questions, instead returning to her earlier response. "I'll just shoot him a text I'll catch him later. And the two of us can go instead." She leans in to pet Teekl, still nestled upon Klarion's shoulders. The fluffy cat purrs. "And my little Lover Boy too, of course."

The Warlock beams internally, mentally placing a tick on the scoreboard in his mind. Tally. Kevin 0. Klarion 1.

"Splendid!" He exclaims. "And shall you be telling your _boyfriend_ that you are to be having lunch with a former _lover_?"

Helena can't help but pick up on the sing-song way he keeps saying the word 'boyfriend' around her. Like a tease. Like it's a game to him. A joke.

"Client." Helena corrects. "You did say you had matters to discuss about Roanoke?"

"And I do. And discuss we shall." Klarion agrees merrily. "But first... Where to?"

Standing straight and tall with his feet clicked together, Klarion gallantly offers Helena his arm. A bit cheesy, like some Disney prince offering Cinderella a dance. He grins down at her, wide and charming, egging her on to accept. And accept, she does. Sliding her hand inside the crook of his arm, she does her best not to chuckle.

Reaching inside her purse, Helena pulls out her phone to text said _boyfriend_. Looking down at the screen as she types in her message with the tip of her thumb.

"I dunno... There's this burger joint-"

"No no no..." Klarion interrupts, placing a hand atop hers.

Helena looks away from her screen and up at the Warlock, confused. Eyebrow arched, she awaits the reason why he'd made such an outburst.

"Magic, remember?" He cheerfully explains. "Anywhere and everywhere. Any time and any place. You can have some lousy street burger any old day of the week, but TODAY... Today I take you wherever it is your heart desires. What is it you CRAVE?"

Still staring into his big black eyes, she doesn't know what to say. Is he for real? He's acting even stranger than usual. Manic, even. Highly excitable and over-the-top giddy. Like some sort of used car salesman. Only he's trying to sell himself. To her. And it's working. He's applying himself to her cat-like curiosity. Knowing full well he's got just the right lure to hook her and reel her right in. That thrill that her life has so sorely been missing. Laid out before her, offered on a silver platter with a great big bow.

"There are other WORLDS out there. Other dimensions. Past and present. FUTURE!" He continues, piquing her interest more and more with every turn of the phrase. "French fries on top of the Eiffel Tower. Literally. THE TOP! Or maybe sushi at the bottom of the ocean in Atlantis. I know! Fifty-first century delicacies. I hear the cheesecake is to DIE for! Although in my opinion it isn't quite cheese... nor is it cake... Just think of it, Kitty. Cuisines that have yet to be invented. Delights that are literally OUT OF THIS WORLD! OH! How abouuuuut..."

The most devious of Cheshire-like grins slithers wide across his pale blue face, instantly darkening his features. His eyes stare down at her, more intense than ever before. Like big black voids, sucking in her attention. He's got her hook, line and sinker.

"I know JUST the place." He practically purrs in a voice so smooth, it sounds like liquid velvet.

With eyes of wonder, she hangs on his every word. Completely captivated by everything he has to say. She doesn't even realize it. Too lost in the sound of his voice and the thought of far off lands to put up walls and defenses. Too far-gone and mesmerized to play indifferent.

"Where?" Helena asks. Her voice so small, a mere whisper.

Klarion turns to face her full on, taking her hands in his.

"A surprise."

It begins in the corners. A tinge of red bleeding out to cover his entire eye. A very specific hue of glowing crimson light. His magic made manifest, shining brightly through his eyes. That red magic of his. Old magic. Strong magic. Magic that can do anything and everything she could possibly ever think to dream of. And right now, it's being used to take her out to lunch. To where... or when... she does not know.

A portal opens up behind him, to the surprise of every employee, visitor and client in the lobby. Slowly he walks backwards a step, then another, pulling her along. That grin still stuck to his face. Helena follows, as if lost in a trance. As if lost in his magic, though she knows that's not the case. As long as she wears the cross...

The cross.

She slides a hand out from his, reaching up to take hold of the cross around her neck. Klarion stops as well. Curious.

"Will it work?" Helena asks, staring past him towards the portal. "Can I go with you if I'm wearing this?"

Klarion tilts his head slyly, staring at the thing as if he's undressing her of it with his eyes.

"Would you care to take it off?"

The temptation is great, but the consequences are greater. Biting her lip, Helena shakes her head 'no'.

"Well... Then there's only ONE way to FIND OUT!"

With a mad cackle, Klarion reclaims her lost hand, grabbing it firmly and holding on tight. Falling backwards and dragging her along with him. She hasn't even the opportunity to take a deep breath as together they drown in the red. Like a bottomless pool of endless swirling space, swallowing them whole. Into the unknown.

* * *

_**Poor Kevin. I didn't even realize it until I wrote both their names right next to each other. Kevin & Klarion are kinda similar sounding. Swear I didn't mean it, must have been some subconscious slip! Klarion's replacement is just a boring version of himself. Kitty got herself a rebound :D**_

_**A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed thus far. Especially YOU bluepenquin1998! Your reviews totally keep me going! I hope this sequel is just as good as the first and will only get even better! Share the love and keep those reviews coming! Let me know what you love and would love to see! XOXO**_


	10. Welcome To Oblivion

**WELCOME TO OBLIVION**

The vortex opens up and Helena hasn't a clue where he's taken them. In fact, they could be anywhere. Any time. Any place. Or possibly even nowhere at all.

Looking around her, she takes in the vast nothingness around them. Just miles upon miles of cracked dry earth and a sky just as dismal. A brown, empty wasteland. Endless and reaching forever. Off into infinity. And she just let him lead her blindly. Stupidly. She relinquished control and allowed him to take her away to god knows where. No promise of when or IF they'd be returning. Hell... It could very well be a trap. And yet deep down she knows he wouldn't do such a thing to her. She knows she can trust him. Even though she shouldn't and she hates herself for it.

The swirling red disperses, and with it, Klarion's eyes return to their previous obsidian. He let's go if her hands to fix his tie. This is just a typical occurrence for him. Completely commonplace. Helena, however... Her knees shake something fierce, to the point of nearly buckling. She reaches out to grab hold of Klarion's arm to keep herself from falling. She'd teleported with him before, but THAT... That was something else.

"That wasn't teleporting." Helena thinks out loud, trying to keep her morning coffee from coming back up.

"Nope." Klarion simply replies. "That was a portal."

She looks up at him, her face a bit white.

"Difference?"

Klarion scratches his chin, as if stroking invisible stubble. Explaining such things to mortals is never very easy.

"Well... Teleporting takes you from point A to point B. Whereas a portal takes you from point A to point 2. Understand?"

Judging by the cryptic look on her face, he can clearly tell she doesn't.

"Teleporting helps you travel within the same space. Say, from here to across the room." He tries to explain further. "While a portal moves you to the spaces beyond and between. Different dimensions and realms. Points of existence and such."

Helena slowly nods her head, though her face is still quite confused.

"You see, when-"

She holds a hand up close to his face, quieting him instantly.

"Whatever. Just... Just say cuz MAGIC."

A smile spreads wide across Klarion's face. He abruptly throws his hands up in the air and shouts enthusiastically.

"TA-DA! MAGIC!"

Helena laughs, grabbing one of his raised arms and pulling it back down towards her so she can link arms with him again. He laughs along with her, joining in her entertainment.

"Sooo... We're in another dimension?" She asks.

"Mmm... More or less."

"And you knew we'd be able to travel here even though I'm wearing the cross?"

Klarion shrugs, pretending as if it's no big deal. Acting completely self-satisfied with his own abilities and needing to brag about it. To show off for her. He's trying his best to impress her with his skill of sorcery.

"Well, since teleporting moves YOU, and a portal moves the space AROUND you, I figured we'd be fine."

"And if you figured wrong?"

"We'd create a tear in the fabric of reality, thus dooming life as we know it."

Helena stares at him blankly, searching his face for any sign of deception. To see if he's joking. Though, it would appear he most certainly is not. And that should terrify her, but it doesn't. For whatever reason, she finds it absolutely hilarious. The thought of possibly erasing all of existence, destroying countless lives and every world there ever was or ever will be, all for the sake of a lunch date. That's SO like him.

The corner of Klarion's mouth turns up into a lopsided grin, watching as she laughs. Enjoying her enjoyment. He shares in her laughter. Reviling in it. Absolutely enthralled that she's having fun. That she's taking delight in being with him. Happy to be in his company. It's just like old times.

Having such a good time, he'd almost forgotten.

"Oh! Before we go in, you may want to change into your mask. That is if you value your secret identity. I know with Catgirl, you didn't seem to mind. But now being a Wayne..."

Helena takes a look around, trying to figure out what he means by 'in'. There's nothing around them. Clearly no building in which to go IN to. Still, she humors him. Like the time they'd walked through the woods of Limbo Town to get to his own special little place, secretly cut off from the rest of the world. She'd almost forgotten that memory...

There's just no arguing when magic's involved. For all she knows, there could be something in front of them which he can see and she most definitely cannot.

"Is this a 'heroes only' kinda place?"

"Not exactly."

"Villain?"

"Nnnnnnnnnnooo..."

Her brow furrows. He isn't exactly offering up any clues. And it's making her anxious.

"Where are we?"

"Just change."

"But I didn't bring-"

Klarion shakes his head back and forth.

"No no, you misunderstand me." He cuts in. "I'll put up a perception filter. All you need do is THINK of your costume and all will see you as you perceive yourself to be, which would be your alter persona if you so desire." That sly, flirty grin returns. He wiggles an eyebrow. "Or something a bit more _comfortable_ if you wish."

Helena narrows her eyes on him.

"You're NOT going in my head." She warns.

"And I couldn't even if I tried all thanks to that ward." Klarion defends, pointing to her cross. "It's a simple glamour trick, ok? Completely noninvasive. It works AROUND your physical form. Much like a mirage. No head tricks. Promise. Ok?"

Helena stares up at him, eyebrow arched. She doesn't like this. Not. One. Bit.

The amount of control she's allowed him to have over her. The amount of MAGIC she's allowed him to use on her. What's the point of a ward against his tricks if he seems to find ways around it? Loopholes in the system. Still, she knows he wouldn't harm her. And she knows it's all in her best interest because he's absolutely right.

As Catgirl, she didn't care who knew about her identity because it was all a fake. A façade. But as Helena Wayne, she's playing it close to the chest. Playing for keeps. All nine lives have been spent and she's down to her last one. It isn't exactly wise to go around advertising where it is you sleep at night and allowing wolves to your door. Especially when she doesn't even know where it is he's taken her. Or what sort of company he keeps. That's always been part of his charm, she supposes. He's bad at being good and good at being bad. There's just no telling with him.

"Ok." Helena reluctantly agrees. She's still skeptical, but accepts.

"Very well then."

Klarion snaps his fingers and Helena thinks hard. The rest happens instantaneously. No smoke or mirrors. No swirling red mist. Just suddenly she's wearing other clothes. Or at least she appears to be.

It's the strangest thing. She KNOWS she's still wearing tailored slacks and a form-fitted lilac blouse, but looking down, she sees something else entirely. Slick black leather, fitted to her body like a second skin. Enveloping her in an inky, black shadow of a specially patented Kevlar weave. Light-weight and slinky, but could withstand an armor-piercing round from point-blank. It's something she had to learn the hard way, as is always the case. Having been shot once and lost her life because of it, it's not exactly something she would like to do again.

As with the Kevlar, something else she'd never needed as the Catgirl is a cape. Long and flowing. Black and violet. She'd never had use for one before, but has quickly come to learn there's a reason why her father wears one when he goes out at night. And after taking a couple spills of her own, had decided to add one to the uniform. It does have its uses.

And of course no outfit is complete without a sexy pair of thigh-high boots. Not to mention the big, white cross plastered wide across her chest. The insignia of the Huntress. Only adding extra emphasis to the fact that she most certainly takes after her mother. Meaning she is VERY well endowed.

Surprisingly though, that's NOT what has captivated the forlorn Warlock's attention. His eyes rest upon her cowl. A certain shade of purple. Where pink meets blue. And of course, those two pointy ears.

Now, if he or anyone else were to ask her, surely she'd say the points are to emulate her father's. The sign of the Bat. Yet he sees it as something else entirely. Subconsciously, Klarion runs a hand through his hair. Raking across two devilish spikes of his own.

With a catcall of a whistle, his eyes continue downward, following her curves. Feasting on her, up and down and up again. Acting the wolf, but she's no lamb. Quite formidable, indeed.

Suffice to say, she's got him excited. Aroused even. He shoves his hands in his front pockets to keep his protrusion from showing.

"Don't start." The Huntress growls, well aware of the hungry way he's looking at her.

"WHAT!?" Klarion defends with a sly grin. "I can't appreciate a work of art? You really are quite breathtaking." Teekl meows something in the witches ear, to which he responds, "Hn. Right. Of course. And as for me..."

With the snap of his fingers, he too transforms. Not that he has a secret identity to conceal, but he's not one to be left out.

His suit jacket lengthens, skirting low to his mid-thigh. It sprouts a pair of tails, coming to a point at not only the front, but back as well. His sleeves flare out, covering most of his hands. And much like the tails, they too meet at a long, sharp point.

Peeking through, a red inner lining. Bold and vibrant against his monochromatic attire. The cherry on top.

Slim, fitted and certainly foxy. He looks elegant. Much like his normal day to day wear, but much edgier to say the least.

"Nice." Huntress purrs.

Klarion pouts.

"Nice? That's it?" He whines. "I liken you to a work of art and all you can say is NICE. Really... How utterly unfair."

Helena laughs and grabs hold of the downtrodden Warlock's arm. Reminding him exactly why they've come all the way out here to the middle of nowhere in the first place.

"So we gonna eat, or what?"

Klarion sighs deeply.

"Yes... I suppose."

The wave of his hand and suddenly a door appears from out of nowhere. No building attached, just a door. And not even a very impressive looking one at that. Together, they approach and Klarion knocks three times. From the other end, Helena can hear someone ask for the password, to which Klarion just rolls his eyes.

"Abra Kadabra is the greatest ma... You know what, NO." The witch groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A man your age... Ugh... Look... l know for a fact you wear silk skivvies. There's just no way I'm calling you the greatest magician alive. I just can't take you seriously and DEMAND we change the password."

The door opens, much to the chagrin of one very perturbed doorman.

"Ass." Abra Kadabra grumbles as the pair and their cat step inside.

The Huntress holds onto the Warlock's arm tight. Tight to the point of nearly cutting off all circulation to his hand. If his fingers could possibly get any bluer, they very well would at this particular moment. She's overly excited. Almost hopping up and down as they enter this completely out-of-the-way, other dimension, very special place that she just HAD to get all dressed up in her uniform for. Her imagination runs wild. The curious cat in her is simply DYING to know. Just where the hell are they? Eyes wide, she has her answer.

A bar.

Sure, it's a fairly nice looking bar. But it's JUST a bar. Nothing fancy or special or crazy about it at all.

Helena's heart sinks. Her shoulders slump, and with them, her grip loosens around his arm. Maybe she shouldn't have set her expectations so high, but she's completely let down. Klarion had made it seem like such a big deal.

"It's... a bar..." Huntress tries to mask her upset tone. It isn't working. She both sounds and looks like someone's kicked her cat.

Klarion's in his glory. Beaming so wide to the point of nearly bursting. He wonders if he should tell her now or let her stew a little longer. The suspense is killing him. He bites his bottom lip to keep from giggling or possibly spoiling the surprise. After the longest two seconds of his life, he finally relents. He just HAS to tell her.

"It's not just ANY bar, Kitty. Remember, looks can be deceiving." Reclaiming her arm in his, Klarion pulls her in closer. Close enough to purr into her ear. "Welcome to the Oblivion Bar, my dear. The only known universe with its very own Happy Hour."

* * *

**_Yes, the Oblivion Bar DOES exist in the DC Universe. No, I'm not too familiar with it, so I hope I do it justice! You'll just have to wait and see!_**  
**_A couple YJ easter eggs. Klarion's suit should be familiar to you. Also Abra's choice in undies... LOL_**


End file.
